


Nothing but Filler and Still It Can Bank Our World

by DearOne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-18
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 39,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearOne/pseuds/DearOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco realize their lack of relationship needs filling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (1) My first HP fic. So, be kind (2) Unbeta'd. My comma usage is my ill fortune. ConCrit is welcomed. Flames are not. (3) Canon? What canon? Consider everything that happened after year four went out the window, took a flying leap, landed in a giant mixer and became slashy goodness. (4) As the story progresses additions/changes in regards to the rating, genre, warnings, etc. will be made.  
> WARNING: Mentions/Possibility of MPreg.

**Prologue**   
_This Is It_

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Everybody had called them Unity Meetings, the meetings between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had started arranging them at the start of sixth year in hopes of uniting the four houses of Hogwarts.

Or so everybody thought.

Few close friends and even fewer members of the faculty knew the truth. The truth was every Friday at six o' clock in the room of requirement, Harry and Draco would meet because of the impending war.

Not to say they didn't still have their occasional impromptu encounters as well. In fact, there were several. And they seemed to occur more and more frequently as their sixth year wore on. This did not happen at the suggestion of any of the faculty or friends for that matter. They happened because no matter what kind of relationship (or lack thereof) they had, Harry and Draco were drawn to each other. They met in corridors and in the library. They ran into each other by the lake and on the pitch. And on one occasion, they found themselves together in the Hufflepuff girls' dormitory.

Whatever the case, to Harry and Draco, the meetings meant change.

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	2. Chapter 2

**ACT I  
scene i**   
_So Over This Game_

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"Potter."

"Parkinson."

"You're late."

"Am not. I'm on... time." Harry frowned as he glanced at the clock that said otherwise. "Just about." It was never a problem before when he came in ten, fifteen minutes late.  _Why would it be a problem now?_  Harry thought.

"Tell that to the person who waited for you," said Pansy.

"He..." Harry nodded towards the blonde, who invariably showed up five minutes early on the dot at  _every_  arranged meeting. "He was early," Harry scoffed.

The blonde was standing near the fireplace with his back to Pansy and Harry. There was no indication that he had heard anything that had been said.

After a pregnant pause, Harry realized that he had been waiting for what should have been an inevitable, proper fit that could only be delivered from a Malfoy. Harry allowed for another second to pass. Nothing came of it.

"Hey, Malfoy…" Harry began, but trailed off as he noticed that Draco didn't so much as twitch since his arrival. It irked him far more than it should have.

By the angle of Draco's usual straight posture, the set of his pointed chin and his unblinking gaze, he seemed to be intent on staring into the fireplace.

Harry could understand the feeling of getting lost in the mesmerizing beauty of licking flames. However, on this particular night, there were no signs of flames, not even a glowing ember to be seen. Draco was, apparently, staring into nothing. It was as if he wasn't even present in the room.

The cold shift in the atmosphere was palpable. Harry felt a chill run up his spine. Something was wrong.

"How long?" Harry asked, voice breaking from the sight before him. But still, the broken sound carried to the girl sitting on the sofa. He silently hoped that Draco would show some sign of hearing it too.

There was no such sign.

Harry began to take even, careful steps towards the unmoving boy.

"Close to an hour now," Pansy replied, softly. And then in a slightly harsher voice: "Or, at  _least_. I found him like this. I tried to snap him out of it. Nothing worked. Didn't you get my message?"

Harry barely heard, but he shook his head 'no.'

He vaguely remembered Hermione handing him a slip of parchment during potions and murmuring something about lateness. He had stuffed the parchment into his pocket without reading it. And returned to his thoughts that were centered on, ironically enough, potions.  _Did I ever read it?_  Harry didn't remember the words if he did.

Harry would have pulled the parchment out to check if it was indeed the message Pansy was referring to, however, he had already reached the other boy and his train of thought was lost.

And besides, Pansy had already left the room.

ccc

Harry knew it would come to this. It was all part of the plan. It was necessary that Draco would take the Dark Mark. He just didn't think it would be so soon.

"Did it hurt?" he heard himself asking.

When no answer came, Harry placed a hand to Draco's shoulder and turned him around so that they were facing each other.

Harry was surprised at what he saw. Draco still looked like himself physically, but the set of his features were foreign and unfamiliar. And wrong. No longer did Harry see the pompous Draco Malfoy that he'd known for nearly six years. Instead, he saw a shell of a person. Harry found himself hating Draco in that moment much more than he ever had before.

There were few solid things in his life, and as sad as it was, the security of his relationship--or lack thereof--with Draco was one of them. And he'd be damned if he lost that.

Harry never thought that he would ever actually wish to see the patented Malfoy sneer where it rightfully should be and yet, he was hoping for it.

When he realized his wishing wasn't going to be of any use, he decided to deal with the situation in a more practical way.

He shoved Draco against the wall. Hard.

"I asked you, did it hurt?" Harry repeated. He grasped Draco's shoulders, and dug his fingers into the little flesh that covered the slightly shorter man's thin frame. Harry used the inch or two height difference to his advantage, and towered over Draco. He knew he wouldn't be able to intimidate the Slytherin, but it was worth a try. Anything was worth a try to get Draco to respond to him, to get Draco to do something other than looking like he was nothing.

Harry still did not get an answer, but something in Draco's gaze had changed as if a haze had been lifted.

Harry held his breath. Somehow, at that moment, he knew it wasn't as bad as it seemed. Draco was not lost.

Long minutes passed in silence. It could have been hours, but Harry did not let up nor did Draco waver.

Then it happened.

Draco carefully brought his hands up and yanked Harry's grip off from his shoulders. When he had regained his footing after being awkwardly slouched onto the wall, he straightened his robes and finally answered Harry's question. "No."

Harry backed away but kept his gaze locked on slate grey eyes. "Tell me, again."

"You heard me."

"I don't think I heard you right. Tell me again."

"It did  _not_  hurt, Potter."

Harry looked the blonde over. "Did it hurt, Malfoy?" He pressed as if he did not already ask. He didn't know why he couldn't just be satisfied with the answer that was given to him. But something inside of him wanted to tear down the walls that guarded Draco.

"Why should I tell you?"

"Maybe because you want to." Harry watched as Draco briefly dropped his gaze. And when it returned, Harry saw uncertainty and something akin to hate in his eyes.

"And what makes you think that, Potter?"

"If you didn't want me to know, you wouldn't have asked me to come here, Malfoy."

"We meet here every Friday night to exchange information. That's it. Asking was not in--"

"Bullshit! The time  _here_  may have been arranged, but I have a note that says otherwise. You asked me to come early." Harry didn't know why it was so important for him to know. Asking in the first place was already heading into uncharted territory.

"You didn't even read the note," Draco said, knowingly. "And you didn't come early. Nor did you come on time for that matter," Draco scoffed. "And besides, that was Pansy's doing."

"The fact of whether or not I read the note is a moot point. And don't try to tell me that it was just Parkinson's doing. Parkinson wouldn't have come to me on her own with a note. You and I both know that. Or at least I thought you would. Where did all that Slytherin cunning go, Malfoy? I guess your idea didn't pan out the way you thought it would. Early or not, I know that you _wanted_ me here." Harry licked his lips and bit back a smirk.

That had earned him a glare. Somehow, that sight set everything back into place. Even if Harry was on the receiving end of it, he didn't care so long as Malfoy was Malfoy again.

Draco broke eye contact and turned away to face the fireplace. He took out his wand and muttered  _"Incendio"_  under his breath.

Several minutes passed as both boys allowed the room to be overtaken by the sound of whipping flames. Snap. Crackle. Pop.

"It didn't hurt, Potter," Draco said, breaking the silence between them.

Harry was going to respond, but swallowed his words when Draco continued.

"Not... not as much as it hurt when father handed me to the Dark Lord."

Harry didn't say anything. He knew that if he were to say something it would only make matters worse. Instead, he took the time and studied Draco's lowered head, tense back, bent knee, and hands that were pressed and pushing against the wall to hold himself up. Harry decided that even after hearing Draco's broken words, he never looked stronger.

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 _"It didn't hurt, Potter. Not… not as much as it hurt when father handed me to the Dark Lord."_

Draco had learned at an early age of what was considered appropriate conversation. Subjects concerning emotion did not make the cut. He was well aware of the consequences if his father were to hear him talk about his pain, let alone his feelings. And now here he was, telling Potter exactly what he felt.

But it was too late. He had let the words slip out of his mouth.

Draco felt both instant regret and immense relief wash over him.  _It didn't hurt... Not as much as..._  he recounted.

 _Bloody Potter, for always making me feel--feel?_  As soon as the thought crossed Draco's mind, he panicked. This wasn't him.  _Malfoys do not..._

He pushed off the wall and once again righted his robes. "Before you say anything, don't." He turned to face Harry and when his gaze met green eyes, he caught a flicker of...  _was it pity? Sadness? Compassion?_  He cleared his throat and wondered why he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. He decided to look at something less confusing. His eyes focused on a blackened stain that was on Harry's white collared shirt, just at his right shoulder.  _Was it ink? Blood?_  Draco shivered at the thought. He met Harry's eyes again. "Let's just do what we came here to do, exchange information."

At Harry's nod, he sighed. He was able to breathe again. **  
**  
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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought of magical gnomes when you read "Snap. Crackle. Pop." you'll know that the names belong to Kellogg's® Rice Krispies®. Just saying.


	3. Chapter 3

**scene ii**   
_Mmm, Like Suspended Fruit in a Sweetened Jellylike Substance_

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"Draco, darling, you're here?" Pansy said in that pitchy voice of hers. She took her seat to the right of Draco. Blaise Zabini sat to his left.

It was still too early for the Great Hall to be full of students. Only the early risers were present. Mostly Slytherins and Ravenclaws, a few Huffelpuffs and even fewer Gryffindors scattered the hall.

"Obviously, it being breakfast time and this, the Great hall, where else would I be?" Draco answered as he filled his plate.

Pansy shrugged her shoulders, nonchalantly.

Draco was sitting close enough that he had felt her reply. And without needing to meet her eyes he knew her gaze lingered on his forearm. He knew what was really on her mind.

"Well, you really scared me last night Draco."

It was Draco's turn to shrug. "Pass the marmalade," he said to no one in particular. He would have reached for it himself, but he noticed the Great Hall was starting to fill with more students, mostly Gryffindors.

He could tell without looking because rooms that contained Gryffindors seemed to become louder, fuller, warmer. Or was that notion biased as he mainly associated with only a few in particular? Like the one who was constantly on his mind; the one he was trying to NOT think about.

He kept his eyes chiefly on his plate. He didn't want to inadvertently look up at an ill-favored moment.

He wasn't prepared to see Harry after last night's little slip. Things were becoming uncomfortable. And he felt his resolve starting to break as he realized that it was getting more and more difficult to ignore the obvious change in their relationship.

In the background he heard Pansy prattle on, but he couldn't care less. He just wanted out of the room before something went wrong, like blushing at the sight of the Golden Boy for instance.

What actually happened was worse.

Blaise had placed the orange jar of jelly off to the side of his plate, an  _unopened_ jar of jelly. "What were the house elves thinking?" Draco muttered. He made another little sound as he gathered the heavy jar in his hands and proceeded to work the top open. Or try to.

Mid-unsuccessful-twist, he noticed a familiar unwanted presence across from him. Of course he knew who it was. Only Harry could make him feel--there's that word again--like  _this,_ broken and whole all at once by just being there. He struggled to not look up as he placed the stubborn jar back onto the table. He made a move to get his wand to magic it open, but when he got it out it was too late. The jar was already in strong able hands.

"If you open that jar, I  _will_ hex you," Draco said. His tone, surprisingly, carried little bravado, but there was no mistaking the threat. "Don't think I won't."

No one takes Draco's threats lightly. Everyone knows that they are as good as done.

And everyone knows that Harry is never one to back down. So when the rest of the people in the hall caught on that there was something going on between Hogwarts' two most infamous rivals, the room fell silent.

Draco was unaware of the eager audience. He only knew of the existence of the person sitting across from him, and could only see the hands that cradled the jar of marmalade. He felt his cheeks burn and then finally, he looked up.

Grey eyes met green.

Draco saw a challenge in those eyes. And he knew he couldn't keep the excitement that was burning inside of him from appearing in his own gaze. But he didn't care. This was them.

Nothing could be held back.

ccc

 _"If you open that jar, I_  will  _hex you."_

Harry, like all the others who heard, did not miss the obvious threat in Draco's words. But unlike the others, he didn't care.

Without a second thought, he twisted his hand and the jar opened with a resounding pop that carried throughout the hall. The action caused a series of murmurs from their classmates, breaking the silence. Seconds later, everyone was quiet again, anticipating what would happen next.

Draco knew that his threat wouldn't faze Harry Potter.

And because Draco was Draco Malfoy, he wasn't going to back down either.

"You'll be sorry you did that, Potter," Draco said as he leveled his wand at Harry's throat with a sure hand, a curse was ready at the tip of his tongue.

Harry was practically bouncing at the sound of Draco's words. The pit of his empty stomach was churning with the pressure of wanting to laugh, to scream, to do anything to release his excitement. The realization that  _this_ was what made him feel alive only added fuel to the fire.

But Harry didn't let his emotions show. He did, however, smirk at the other boy.

Harry stood up. The tip of the wand that was pressing against his throat dug deeper as Draco followed his movements. Harry knew Draco wouldn't hesitate to hex him. He also knew that even his seeker reflexes wouldn't save him in time to deflect it, but something inside of him didn't care. Something inside of him wanted Draco to do his worst. "Like I'd apologize--"

"Mr. Potter, what is the meaning of this?"

The voice came from behind, but there was no mistaking the velvety baritone that had caught Harry's attention in his first potions class.  _Bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses..._

It had come to great disappointment to Harry that the potion's master turned out to be another someone, who fell into the trap of thinking they knew who he was just because of his name.  _Our new celebrity._

But lately, Harry and Severus Snape had formed some kind of unvoiced truce during a particularly heated lesson, which ultimately taught Harry what it would take to evade Sanpe's disparaging personality.

"Malfoy and I were just talking, Sir," said Harry, evenly, as if he didn't just have a wand pointed at his throat.

"I did not know that 'just talking' required wand usage. Care to explain, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco, who had lowered his wand moments earlier, was caught off guard. Professor Snape never singled out a student in his own house. And surely, not when a perfect opportunity for him to berate another house' student was in order, especially when it came to Harry Potter.

"Professor, Potter had lost his way. I thought I might help him find his table by fixing his vision." Thankfully, Draco was a fast thinker. He hoped that the attention would shift back to Harry. After all, it was Harry who had approached him in the first place. He counted on Snape to realize this, as he belatedly realized that he would not be able to back his response with an actual spell.

"Is that so? Well, by all means, carry on then."

Draco couldn't believe this. He dug his own hole. Why the condescending bat couldn't just take house points and be done with it was beyond him.

He looked at Potter again, noting the glint in his green eyes that seemed to say 'guess that's payback.' Draco narrowed his eyes and was about to speak when Harry cleared his throat.

"Actually, Sir, Malfoy had already repaired my vision just before you arrived. Right, Malfoy?" Potter said, conversationally. He took off his glasses and tucked it in his pocket. "Thanks, by the way."

At Draco's nod, Severus eyed the two boys. "Truly then, that is  _extraordinary_. It is no wonder you both accumulated such an audience. Now, if the show is over..." Snape paused for a brief second until there was a confirming nod from both boys. He then addressed the rest of the hall, "I expect that you can all now return to your breakfast." And with a billow of his black robes, Snape turned, and continued through the hall to take his usual seat at the staff table.

A clattering of silverware to plates resounded through the hall as students hurried to do as directed.

Draco scowled as he took his seat again. He wasn't sure who he was angrier at. Potter, for having the audacity to  _not_ react at Snape's intervention as he normally would have. Or at Snape, who clearly wasn't himself either. Something was definitely wrong.

Harry followed Draco's suit and sat down, taking the seat in front of Draco.

For a moment he just watched the blond, who had carried on with his breakfast. A mask of indifference was firmly in place to devoid Draco's face of emotion. But Harry knew otherwise. He would know even if he did not just take part in the altercation. For all that Draco would have liked to keep his emotions hidden, he wasn't very good at hiding it from Harry.

The slight pink flush in his pale features spoke volumes. And how Draco unconsciously pushed his hair from his eyes only to have it fall again moments later was an obvious indicator. Normally, he would have flicked his head slightly to move his hair back.  _Do all people know these kinds of things about their rivals?_ Harry wondered.

When Draco picked up his fork and bit his bottom lip as he sliced a piece of sausage, Harry contemplated if it would be wrong to think that his enemy had cute tendencies. Harry's next thought was that he hadn't considered Draco as an enemy--if even that--since... Well, for a good long while. He thought of Draco as a rival at best, or was it at worst? He wasn't entirely sure. And he wondered if that made it NOT matter anymore.

With a grin, Harry slid the opened jar of marmalade across the table to the blond boy, knowing exactly how it would aggravate him even more.

Draco had felt Harry's eyes on him. He was intent on ignoring him, an impossible task when the jar of marmalade appeared in his line of vision. _I will not react. I will not give him the satisfaction of winning this too_ , Draco told himself.

But for Harry's effort, Draco did glare. Picking up his knife and a piece of toast, Draco slathered on the marmalade. "Why are you  _here_ , Potter?" Draco placed his toast back on his plate and picked up his fork again to stab at his eggs.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I woke up this morning and decided I wanted toast."

"Toast?"

"Toast," he confirmed. And then Harry picked up the newly confectioned piece of bread off Draco's plate as if it were something he did every day. "And it will be the greatest toast I've ever tasted," Harry said, looking at his newly acquired toast with interest. And then he took a bite. He was well aware that Draco's eyes were on him. Most likely he was glaring. And when he met those grey eyes with his own, the glare, as suspected, was there. But in that look there was less of an ' _I'm going to kill you'_  look and more of…  _something else_.

"Was it?" asked Blaise, cutting into Harry's thoughts.

It took a moment for Draco and Harry to acknowledge the fact that there were other people in the hall besides them.

"Was it?" Blaise repeated, looking at Harry.

Draco waited for Potter to answer, not even aware of how interested he was to hear it. But when Harry smiled at Blaise and licked his lips in preparation to speak, as if he was still thinking of what to say, something inside of him surged. And before he realized it he answered for Harry.

"Of course it was," Draco had said, confidently, and smirked. He didn't think of the implication of what his words would mean, but he saw no error in saying that his toast--even metaphorically speaking--was indeed the best.

Blaise looked from Draco to Harry with something of confusion and disbelief written on his face. And the two rivals shared a significant look that even they themselves probably couldn't describe.

"Harry, what's taking you? Zacharias is waiting for you."

Harry tore his eyes away from Draco's as he turned to look at Hermione Granger, who stood now in the same spot that Snape had occupied moments before.

"Waiting? Where--oh shit! I forgot," Harry said as he stood.

Hermione leaned in close and whispered something in Harry's ear. He had replied with a slight tilt of his head that could have been a nod or a shake. Draco, nor Blaise could make anything out of it.

Draco was admittedly curious, and wanted to find out what Harry had forgotten, but he had other things on his mind to think about.

He was still on the high from what just happened a few moments ago. He didn't want to leave that frame of mind just yet. There was no denying the fact now that _something_ had changed between them. Draco was never partial to change before. But after seeing the smirk that was more like a smile that played on Harry's lips just before they were interrupted, Draco decided that he might like this kind of change.

When Draco noticed that Harry made a move to leave with Hermione he found himself disappointed.

But then Harry turned around to face him again.

He didn't say anything further. However, he did hold up Draco's toast. He did meet his eyes with a mischievous look. He did take another generous bite. And he did wink at him before he left with Hermione in tow.

Draco felt his cheeks heat up and it was minutes later when he realized that the room had fallen silent again. This time it was for an entirely different reason.

Draco turned to Pansy, realizing that she had been trying to get his attention. "Later Pans." Then without looking, he addressed his audience: "There is no scene here, get back to your food." Draco internally grinned at the sound of everyone pretending to resume their conversations and continue with their breakfast.

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	4. Chapter 4

**scene iii**   
_Friends or Enemies_

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"So, what's going on between you and Potter?" Blaise questioned as he sidled up next to Draco.

Draco glanced over his shoulder as he walked down the corridor. "Nothing that is of your concern, Blaise."

"Come on Draco, we're good mates, right?" Blaise grinned as he looked over at the blonde, who kept his mask of indifference in place. "You know, if I were you and  _something_  was going on, I wouldn't want to hide it. I mean, Potter is pretty fucking hot."

Draco's eyes almost widened at that, but then he caught himself. Instead, he rolled his eyes, an action that would tell Blaise no more than how exasperating his comment was. "And since when did you think this?"

Blaise didn't answer but only shrugged his shoulders, a characteristic that Draco noticed he had adopted recently. A characteristic that reminded Draco of another dark haired boy. Draco stopped mid-step, as the thought raced through his mind.  _What is going on here?_  Draco stepped closer to the other boy, who had stopped as well.

Draco always thought that they could be mistaken for brothers if it weren't for their contrasting skin tones. They were of the same height, both of slender builds with long lines, their facial features had similar pointed qualities and they were both undeniably beautiful.

"Is there something that you aren't telling me?"

"No," Blaise said, and left it at that.

"Listen. From one Slytherin to another, lying is very unbecoming of you. You're horrible at it." Draco smirked.

"I could say the same to you." Blaise smirked back. "What happened this morning was really something else. You should apologize to Snape. It was that appalling. You're lucky Potter saved your arse."

Draco crinkled his nose. The two Slytherins may share qualities in appearance, but their mannerisms were quite different.

"Look, I'm just looking out for you," said Blaise, nonchalantly, as if admitting such things were an everyday occurrence for him.

Draco was already continuing down the hall when he heard the reply, but the words caused him to slow his pace so the other boy could catch up.

Slytherins were known to look out for themselves and it was certainly true, but a little known fact was that Slytherins also looked out for each other. They were smart, after all, and knew that there were strength in numbers.

Draco eyed the other boy and by the look on Blaise' face, he accepted his words at face value, but he knew that there were hidden motives that hadn't been voiced yet. Blaise may be a terrible liar but he was still a Slytherin. "Looking out for what?"

A knowing grin appeared on the Blaise' face as he spoke, "I understand wanting--to be with someone like  _him_. Someone who has that kind of... power." Blaise came to a stop at the end of the hall, which opened to the outside grounds.

Draco laughed as he stood by his long time friend. "Potter? Powerful? Blaise, he's nothing more than a self righteous brute."

Blaise snorted. "Oh, he's  _more_ , Draco. He has more power coming off in waves than us put together. It's why you want him," Blaise said, knowingly.

Draco scoffed. "Even if he has all the power you are suggesting and more, what makes you think I'd want to be with him?"

"Fuck Draco, it's no secret that you're obsessed with him." Blaise smirked.

"I am NOT obsessed with Potter," Draco bit out.

Blaise put his hands up as if to signal his surrender, for the look on Draco's face said nothing short of murder. "Look, Draco, it's not a bad thing. Like I said, I understand. Hell, I'd go after him. I mean, look at him." Blaise dropped his hands and nodded over to the pitch, directing Draco's gaze.

It seemed that everyone was outside. It was a beautiful Saturday at Hogwarts. In fact, it was the last Saturday of the school year. Monday they would be leaving, but until then, people were just enjoying the end of term. They were finished with their exams and all they had left to do was look forward to the summer holiday.

There were people huddled in groups talking, laughing and sharing last minute gossip. People were running around and playing. One game seemed to involve a ball that people would hit with their hands so that it would bounce, and then they would attempt to throw it in a horizontal hoop in the air.

Couples were walking idly, holding hands and sharing sidelong glances. Others made their way to hide behind trees to steal innocent last minute kisses. Some people were simply lying in the grass to soak in the heat of the sun.

And then Draco's gaze landed on the vision that Blaise was referring to.

Harry Potter. Potter was attractive: messy raven-black locks, athletic and slim build, intense green eyes and, of course, his now tall frame that had surprised everybody at the start of fifth year. All of which were accompanied by a quiet confidence, a strong and stubborn attitude and a spectacularly shy personality.  _He really is his own kind of beautiful..._  Draco bit his bottom lip. "If you are so enamored with him, why don't  _you_  go after him?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of Harry.

"I would, but as it turns out, we aren't meant to be." Disappointment laced Blaise' words. It did not go unnoticed.

"What do you mean by that? Don't tell me that you already tried." Draco narrowed his eyes as he looked at the Slytherin beside him.

"Fine. I won't," said Blaise, his gaze never leaving the sight of Harry.

Draco didn't miss the meaning behind the words that weren't voiced and it unsettled him. Strangely, urgently, he wanted to hit the guy. But he held back and sighed instead. "Why are you pushing this?"

"Why aren't you?" Blaise countered, now looking at his longtime friend.

"Why should I?" Draco couldn't believe he was having this conversation.

"Because for one thing, it could save you."

Again, they were back to this topic, where Draco needed looking after as if he didn't have enough of it. Draco threw a petulant look over his shoulder. "I don't need saving, Blaise."

"Of course you do, Draco. And we need saving too," explained Pansy, as she came to stand by the two boys.

Blaise concurred with a nod of his head.

 _So,_ that's _the hidden motive,_  Draco realized.

Blaise continued when Draco didn't respond: "That mark on your arm may still be  _just_  a mark, but it's still a death sentence."

Draco chuckled and wondered what happened to his friends.

He understood what they meant when they needed saving. They all did. There was no question in that. He just didn't prepare for the idea that they would essentially turn to him for it.

He didn't know what to do with this new information. They wanted him to ensure their safety by coming to Potter. But he didn't know if they meant to alliance with him. He didn't even know if they knew which side he, himself, was actually on.

So far, they had followed his lead without question and tried to comply with Dumbledore's orders to unite the houses. They even came with him to some of the meetings with Potter and his friends. They still fought and expressed their distaste for them openly, but he noticed that there was an unspoken truce now between them all.  _But what's the extent to that truce?_

He didn't know what their reactions would be if he told them that he had willingly went with his father to get the mark. But only because it would mean being initiated into the Dark Lord's inner circle in the future. And that would mean he would be able to leak first hand information for the Order.

The decision to alliance with Harry's side was surprisingly easy for him to make, even if he knew that the implications would make his life more difficult. He wasn't going to back down. He knew that the alternative would mean his death. It still may be a risk. Maybe more now that he was playing against his father and the Dark Lord, but he wasn't a fool. Harry's side has something that the dark does not. Harry's side has hope. And that, Draco thought, may be intangible but it was far more worth dying for than a mad lunatic who had destroyed his father.

Draco looked at Potter again as he collected his thoughts.

Harry was standing off to the side of a group of people as if he wasn't the center of attention.  _Who was he kidding?_  The permanent fixtures of people around him were only there _because_  of their ties to Harry. Harry linked them all.

Granger was to Potter's left and Ronald Weasley was to his right. Weasley was gesturing in the air wildly as he spoke animatedly. Granger listened intently as if there was going to be an exam on it. The littlest Weasley was holding onto a chuckling Longbottom. And there were others who Draco couldn't put a name to. Draco's gaze landed on a blonde, who stood a little ways in front of Harry, nearly blocking his view.

He didn't know much of the blonde. He knew that he was a Hufflepuff and played chaser for his house team in Quidditch. And he seemed to be wherever Harry was for the past couple of weeks. That was the extent to his knowledge about the blonde boy. Draco made a mental note to find out who he was. He told himself it had nothing to do with the fact that every time he saw him laugh at one of Harry's jokes it made him want to rip his blonde Hufflepuff head off.

When his eyes fell back on Harry, he heard himself speaking again. "You know..." Draco nodded in Potter's direction. "He would do it. That is, he'd save you both. All you'd have to do is ask. He's got this hero complex. I'm sure you are aware of it. You don't need me to be with--

"Oh, Draco darling, we know. We've already talked with Potter. But getting with Potter... well, that is for you," Pansy declared with a grin. Ignoring the irritated look Draco bestowed on her for interrupting, she continued: "Right, also, we just want to ensure that you wouldn't botch our safety net."

Ignoring Pansy's first remark, Draco dissected the rest of her statement.  _Did they really know the truth? Why would they trust him with what they told him? Didn't they know that giving_ any _kind of information in regards to the war could mean their very lives? Did they know what would entail if they were to side with him? Did they know what it would mean? There was just too much he didn't know. And was he so obvious?_

Pansy had continued talking but Draco wasn't sure if he was hearing her correctly.

"We won't be seeing Potter over the summer. We assume that you would continue to exchange information. And if something were to happen--knowing you and your jealous tendencies--we may be thrown out of the loop. We know to trust Potter, but let's face it, we're still Slytherins. It's in our nature to think the worst."

"Besides, it wouldn't hurt Potter either. And think of your parents." Blaise added.

"Care to elaborate?" Draco met Blaise' gaze.  _This could be it. This could reveal exactly what side Blaise and Pansy were on without having to reveal his own alliance to the lighter side. He could tell them when a situation called for it._

"Think about it, Draco. Right now, you can play down your encounters with Potter as get-to-know-thine-enemy meetings because there are _np_ heavy emotions involved." Blaise didn't add the all telling  _yet_  to his statement, but proceeded under the watchful eye of his friend. "But something tells me that that all will change soon enough... Look, you may have been able to fool yourself into thinking... what you will about Potter. But others, they know what they want and they care enough to admit it. They'll act on it, Draco. They'll act on  _him._ You know what I mean?" Blaise paused for a brief second.

When he next spoke, there was an unmistakable undercurrent that could be heard in his voice, and Draco was swept away by the words. "There's no question that someone would get hurt. Hurt feelings, even for Syltherins, are difficult to hide. Especially from someone like your father, who happens to hate Potter the most. That is, with exception to the Dark Lord, of course." Blaise knew that Draco would know the rest, but he wanted to voice it anyway. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he continued: "If your father were to find out that your hate for Potter is actually quite the opposite, you'd be more than just dead."

Draco's face was a mask of indifference, but he was internally smiling. Not for the threat of his father if he were to be found out. And not for the part where Blaise had alluded that he had amiable feeling towards Potter, and going as far as implying that he would be hurt if the feelings were not to be returned. He ignored that part completely.

No, he was glad that he found he could trust his friends to be on the same side. He didn't need to hear anymore.

"A few words of advice," Draco said as he glanced from one friend to another, making sure to meet their eyes with each passing glance. "Coming to me with this information could just as well botch your safety net. Going to anyone else may get you killed." He glanced at Pansy. "Like you said, we're Sytherins." Draco let the word sink in before he continued. "We're also known to be loyal to a point. Understand?" At both of their nods, Draco resumed his previous position to look at the grounds surrounding the castle.

"But it doesn't have to be that way with us," Draco said, knowing that he still held their attention. "I don't care what others think. We could be just as strong in our unity as the whole lot of them." Draco wasn't used to these kinds of declarations of friendship, but he felt if he didn't voice them now, the moment would just pass him by and then they'd never have this. In his peripheral vision he saw his friends nodding in turn. He closed his eyes and smiled. It was the first time that day his mind was clear. **  
**  
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	5. Chapter 5

**scene iv**   
_There Was a Time When This Didn't Happen_

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"Come on, Draco. No time to do this brooding shit."

"Blaise! I said I'm not going." Draco glared with finality. He straightened his clothes after being unceremoniously yanked out of his own bed by the other boy. "Crashing the Hufflepuff's party isn't something I consider as fun" Then he added: "Anymore. And this cursing thing you have going now, it's not working."

Blaise grinned. "You  _are_  going. You'll see... the fun to be had tonight will be something that you haven't grown out of--actually, in your case, grow into." Blaise waggled his brow. "And I think I pull it off rather  _fucking_  well."

Draco rolled his eyes. "There are other house parties. Our own, in fact. Since when were you into Huffle--

"Yeah, well, after I heard what goes on in the Hufflepuff girls' dormitory, I rather plan on NOT missing such an occasion," Blaise replied over his shoulder as he dug through Draco's drawer to find him a shirt to wear.

Draco almost asked what he was talking about, but then he realized  _exactly_  what he was referring to. There was a rumor going around Hogwarts about two unnamed boys, who got caught going at it in the Hufflepuff girls' dormitory.

Draco's cheeks burned. He was one of the two boys and knew that part of the story was not a rumor. As for the 'going at it' part, that can be debated, depending on how a person interprets its meaning. In any case, Draco didn't discourage his classmates from spreading the tale around, nor did he interrupt the person who had regaled a perverse version that still made him blush.

Draco never figured out how the rumor had been started. He was sure that the other occupant of that dormitory wouldn't have said anything. But like all things meant to be private, it was only natural that it would make headline news and turn his friend into a perverted git.  _On second thought, that wasn't the rumor's doing. Blaise was just being Blaise._

Feigning indifference, Draco scoffed at the darker boy. "Like seeing what goes on up there is what I want my last image of sixth year to be," Draco muttered. But he gave in, something he had been doing a lot lately. He took off his shirt to put the one Blaise handed him, a dark blue button down.

He couldn't believe he was letting Blaise talk him into going that easily. There was a time when even his friends didn't think about questioning him, much less ask him to do something.

"Of course it is," Blaise responded easily, apparently ignoring Draco's sarcasm.

When Draco took to the mirror to fix his hair and set everything to its place, Blaise went to stand by him and eyed Draco's reflection suggestively. "If I  _weren't_  gay, I'd do you. I say that as a friend, mate." Blaise winked, knowing he caught Draco off guard. He turned to walk out the door to meet Pansy in the common room.

"Wait. What was that supposed to mean? Were you implying that I look like a girl, Blaise? Blaise!"

At Draco's call, Blaise only laughed and picked up his pace when Draco came after him.

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	6. Chapter 6

**scene v**   
_This Affair is in the Hands of a Pedantic Lover_

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As soon as Draco entered, he scanned the Hufflepuff common room for a familiar face. No such luck.  _Or was it luck?_  Draco was having trouble deciding which. Not that he was hoping to see anyone in particular in the first place. Searching the room was a natural thing to do. It was about assessing the environment.  _I'm to be a spy after all,_ Draco reassured himself.

The room consisted of mostly fourth year students and up. There were some Gryffindors and Ravenclaws mixed into the bunch of Hufflepuffs. All of whom, he could not attach a name to. People were gathered around the floor, playing a game of some sort. Others were chatting. Most likely about how boring the party was, Draco decided.

He glanced towards the tables of food. Snacks and juice.  _Probably not even spiked. Merlin, save them._ Draco sighed. He was about to turn around and leave when a hand to his shoulder held him in place.

"Oh, come on, Blaise," Draco muttered, as he tried to struggle free. "You don't expect me to... stay," Draco finished, lamely, when he realized that the hand didn't belong to Blaise but to a very happy looking Potter.

"Not leaving yet, are you, Malfoy?"

Draco found himself flustered at Harry's questioning look. He could answer him in a number of different ways. Harry had been doing that quite a lot lately; leaving it up to him to decide what their encounters would be like. Would they fight? Would they ignore each other's presence? Or do just that but fail miserably?

As far as Draco was concerned, Harry was the elephant that could not be ignored. Even he could not deny that. He had tried several times before to keep Harry out of mind. Each trial had proved unsuccessful.  _Bloody Potter, for being... himself._

In all of the two seconds it took to regain his bearings, Draco smirked. "Well, well, Potter, so nice of you to grace the Hufflepuff's humble party."

"I should say the same to you, Malfoy. Might I add, I hope you do keep to your charming ways this evening. I hear this night will be rather... memorable." Harry grinned.

Harry may be leaving it up to Draco to decide but as far as options go, with a smile like  _that,_  Draco was left with little choice. The decision came easily to his conflicted mind, which actually agreed with him for once.  _Or was it the other way around?_  In any case, Draco had decided that Harry was quite sexy in a white shirt and blue jeans. He wanted him.  _And what Malfoys want..._

Draco found himself amused by the look Harry was giving him. It seemed that Harry may be thinking the same thing in return. Draco chuckled as he heard a voice in his head that sounded much lower than his:  _And what Potter wants..._

Draco briefly wondered if this was all part of Potter's elaborate plan to seduce him.  _That would be so like Potter if it were true_ , Draco mused. After all, what could be expected from someone who was so predictable in the sense that he  _wasn't_  predictable?  _And besides, who wouldn't want me?_

 _Or was Harry just acting this way to be cruel?_  Draco cleared his throat. "By any means then, play on." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand to usher the other boy further into the common room. "I'll keep to my charms. I wouldn't think to spoil your evening." Draco may have admitted to  _a_ feeling, but he sure as hell was not going to let it be known.

"I think you mistook my words." Harry frowned. After a brief pause, he leaned in and whispered: "But I'm sure you'll understand if I tell you that you look like perfection."

Draco was rooted in place as Harry's words warmly ghosted across his ear. And the sensation that the words invoked traveled to the pit of his stomach, tingling and warming him at the same time.  _Since when could words do this?_

Harry grinned and moved ever slightly closer. Draco didn't understand his intention till he felt a heated pressure at his lower back. Draco realized it was Harry's hand. "Now, after you," Harry said, guiding him so that they were no longer at the entrance.

Draco was alarmed at the touch. His first thought was that maybe he had imagined it. But Harry moved with him and when Draco fell back slightly, he felt the touch deepen. As he was being guided further into the room, he knew right then that their relationship--whatever it was--was never really in his control. He was about to turn around to tell Harry that he had it wrong. And how dare he assume that he could speak to him in  _that_  way and say such _things_ and even going as far as to touch him.

But Pansy had chosen that precise moment to interrupt them with drinks in hand.

"Ah, Potter, I do hope you come with entertainment. Where's Granger and the Weasleys?" she asked.

Harry's hand had left its place at Draco's back to take the drink Pansy had offered. Draco could have sworn that the heat only intensified once the hand was gone. Phantom fingers.

Draco was confused and he didn't know what to do. So, he glared at Pansy.

Everything was so much simpler when the only things he and Harry had exchanged were insults, hexes and punches.

Now, Draco noticed things. Different things like catching Harry stealing glances at him as if the messy haired boy had become some kind of boyfriend that couldn't look away. Things like feeling his own heart race because of that very look from said boy, and knowing that Harry's heartbeat matched his own. And things like realizing that this  _isn't_ something new for them.

Draco tore his gaze away but found himself turning back. Harry was already looking at him so their eyes met and locked. The action itself was effortless and simple. And yet, it turned Draco's world upside down. Right then he had realized, or rather, admitted to himself that he, Draco Malfoy, had fallen for Harry Potter.

Harry turned away slightly from Pansy to face him more squarely.

Draco couldn't help but wonder if Harry had casted a wordless  _legilimens_ to read his thoughts or if he, himself, was just that transparent. Draco turned away to hide the blush that appeared.

It was an intimate moment that nobody else was aware of and in turn made it that much more significant. A secret between them.

A second later, reality was upon them again: Pansy was prattling on, someone near Draco groaned, obviously losing a game that was taking place. And somebody bumped into Harry, causing him to almost lose his footing and crash into him.

By reflex, Draco gripped Harry's arm, righting him. And when Harry was steady again, Draco realized that his hand lingered a second too long and dropped it quickly. Draco turned to Pansy. He watched with horrifying slowness, a knowing grin that appeared on her face.

Draco decided that it was time to leave. He did not see the look of disappointment on Harry's face when he left.

He found himself in one of the Hufflepuffs girl's dormitories instead. It was a place ridden with too much yellow and lace, and smelled too much like flowers to have a floral scent. He had only seen the room one other time and he was actually quite offended with himself that he had seen it at all. But of course, that couldn't be helped. As it were,  _it was Harry's fault._

Draco looked around the room without really looking. His mind was elsewhere. He didn't know what to do with his feelings. If he were honest with himself, he would say that they weren't new feelings at all, but repressed feelings that were hidden so well that he was able to bury them under his resentment.

But no longer could he ignore the weight that resided somewhere in his chest, the clench of his stomach, the hairs at the back of his neck that would stand on end, the tingle in his toes and the warmth that spread over his body that seemed to always happen whenever he knew he had Harry's attention.

Was it something that had developed sometime over the course of the six years he had known him? Did it just happen like a curse hitting its target? Or was it something he had unwittingly wanted all along?

Sitting in the Hufflepuff room for the second time made him realize that he wished to be back by Harry's side, not because the room was hideous but because he just wanted to be with Harry.

It was at that moment that he felt the bed shift beside him.

"Potter, what are you doing here? don't you have your own party?"

"Zacharias asked me to come."

"Zacharias Smith, that Hufflepuff?" Draco asked incredulously. Of all things. He came because another boy invited him, Draco fumed at the thought. He felt betrayed after having just given into the feelings he had for Harry when, seemingly, the feelings weren't mutual.

"Yeah," Harry replied, not that Draco needed to hear the confirmation.

Draco glared nonetheless. He didn't quite care what emotions showed right then. Draco felt humiliated. And that is an emotion that Malfoys rarely feel. It seemed like the only times when he ever associated with that feeling was when Harry was around.

"Well, then, don't let me keep you from your date," Draco spat. He was set on storming out of the room, but Harry caught him by the arm.

"What the fuck, Malfoy. What is this?"

Draco looked down and realized Harry was holding the arm that carried the Dark Mark, a mark waiting to be activated when the time of his official initiation would take place. Draco also noticed that the cuff of his sleeve was unbuttoned.  _Was I fidgeting with it?_

And when Harry had grabbed his arm the sleeve had ridden up, revealing a part of the mark.

Draco's eyes widened. He almost forgot that it was there. He looked back at Harry. Confusion was in his emerald eyes. "You know what it is. Surely, it's not the first time the Boy Who Lived has seen it," Draco said, coldly, with an easy finesse that only an aristocratic upbringing could have proffered.

Harry pulled him back to the bed without saying a word.

Draco had no choice but to reel backwards by the force. He ended up sitting where he was moments before. He opened his mouth to protest but soon forgot his words when Harry met his eyes. Something akin to anger lurked in Harry's heavy gaze. More significantly though, there was a fleeting look of hesitation that had caught Draco's attention. But it was gone too soon.

Draco didn't remember Harry's grip on his arm until he felt it loosen. His focus shifted back on his arm just as Harry pushed his sleeve up, revealing the mark in its entirety.

"I wasn't asking about the mark," Harry said. But then he bent over his arm, clearly absorbed in the mark's ugly detail.

Draco wasn't sure why he didn't pull away or carry on on how Malfoys do not succumb to force. Instead, he found himself immobile and incapable of speech. It didn't matter right then. Draco felt, rather than saw, fingers dance over his mark. He shivered at the contact. Draco had never felt a touch like that before. He watched Harry's face for a reaction to understand his own.

"It's ugly."

Draco was taken aback, but not because Harry had associated the word ugly with him. He was, obviously, nothing short of perfect even with a mark that he, himself, thought was ugly/ But that's not the point. The point is that what surprised him was how Harry had whispered the word and how he gently stroked his arm, a gesture completely incongruous to his words.

Draco felt somehow worshiped in the way Harry was leaning over him, focusing on him alone as they sat side by side, their legs touching. He never really thought the mark was a part of him for what it represented, but for some reason under Harry's gaze--touch--it felt as if the mark was exposing him as no other feature on his body ever could.

Draco was so absorbed in thought that he didn't think to say something back to Harry.

After minutes, or was it seconds? Draco didn't know which. In any case, he pulled his arm away, blushing furiously after he did so. He recalled what Harry said earlier and it bothered him that he was pulled into another moment of getting lost in his feelings for Harry. Draco masked his embarrassment of having his arm scrutinized and replaced it with his previous feelings of anger. "What are you playing at?" Draco said with less bite than what he had intended. He stood up, not comfortable to be sitting down next to Harry anymore.

"I'm not playing at anything. Actually, I'm rather tired of playing, Malfoy." Harry slumped his shoulders, not meeting Draco's eyes. "I don't know what I'm doing either. Doing here, that is." Harry made some obscure gesture in the air.

The meaning was not lost on Draco. Could Harry be just as confused as he was, he thought. Draco was was rendered speechless at the earnestness of Harry's words.

"I wasn't referring to your mark earlier," Harry said, meeting Draco's eyes again.

"Why, thanks. Merlin, Potter, we're back at trading insults, are we? You're saying that  _I'm_ ugly," Draco said, absolutely revolted by the word. "Not that I care for your--

"What? No!" Harry stood up and ran his hand through his hair. "Shit, Malfoy, why must you be such a drama queen? I meant the mark then. The mark is ugly. What I meant  _earlier_ I..." Harry took a breath after a brief pause, and then started over. But in a softer voice: "What I meant, Draco... 'What is  _this_?'" The last word was almost whispered, but was emphasized as Harry gesticulated between them. "I'm lost here. I haven't felt this way before... and I don't know why. All I know is that there is  _something_ here."

"You called me Draco," Draco said. It was the only thing that he was able to say.

"Exactly my point."

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 _"You called me Draco."_

 _"Exactly my point."_

"Well?" Harry prodded, after the longest seven seconds he had ever experienced.

Draco seemingly went through an array of emotions. Anger. Confusion.  _And was it fear?_  Whatever it was, it was masked a second later.

Draco turned away and then spoke in an unaffected voice. "Well, what, Potter?"

Harry opened his mouth but found that no words poured out. He was absolutely speechless.

He knew that Draco understood him. He knew Draco knew what he meant. And here he was, denying it.

But Harry's hesitation didn't matter as the door opened.

Harry didn't know if he was relieved or aggravated by the interruption.

"Harry, there you are. You'll never--Malfoy? What--" The interruption was Ron.

"Look, I'll be out in a second," Harry said, locking eyes with his first real friend.

"Right, okay," Ron replied, but not before casting a suspicious look towards the blond in the room. Harry would have to explain to him later. For now he was grateful that Ron complied.

Ron and Draco--by far--don't like each other, but they don't hate each other anymore either. The fact is is that it took them the longest to bury their contempt for the other in sake of going against Voldemort.

When Ron turned to leave, he didn't bother closing the door and Harry could hear him mutter under his breath as he walked away.

Harry sighed and then turned to face the blonde once again. "Draco, I know what you are doing, and to be honest--"

"No, Potter, you don't know what I'm doing. You don't know the half of it," Draco said. "You think you can play me? Humiliate me? Heard a few rumors, did you? Been talking to my friends, have you?" Draco stepped closer to Harry as if challenging him. "But you have it wrong. You have no idea,  _Potter_."

"No,  _Draco_ ," Harry said, mimicking Draco's tone. Each time he said Draco's given name, Harry found that it felt more and more familiar on his tongue. Harry liked the feeling. "I do," he said without a hint of doubt in his voice. He stepped even closer to Draco. They were face to face. Draco was just shy of two inches for them to be of equal height, but right then, the difference was hardly noticeable.

"I could play you. Humiliate you," Harry said evenly. He noted that Draco didn't interrupt when he had the chance.

Harry realized that the last five years was a game to them. The glares. The insults. The challenges. The duels. The fights. Everything. It was all a game. That was how it worked between them.

But not this. This was not a game.

Harry internally grinned. "I don't listen to the rumors. I don't need to talk to your friends. I don't need to…" Harry walked forward and Draco had no choice but to step backward until he was flush against the wall. But Harry only realized what he was doing when he heard the soft thud that resounded when Draco hit the surface. It didn't stop him; instead, it spurred him on. He took another step closer to close the gap between them. And he braced his hand on the wall, just beside Draco's head. "I don't need to because I know you."

Harry studied Draco's face. His expression was unreadable, but he knew his mind was probably working just as fast as his was.

Harry recalled the all too recent memory of Draco turning away from him. Draco's voice resounding in his ears.  _It didn't hurt, Potter. Not… not as much as it hurt when father handed me to the Dark Lord._  That's who Harry wanted to see. To talk to. To listen to. That was who he wanted.

Harry leaned in, he would have kissed Draco right then and there, but instead he found himself whispering, "The truth is you can't cover it up. You never could… Not with me. Tell me I'm wrong, Draco." Harry waited for a response. His heart was racing. He knew that this could go a number of different ways, but only one way mattered.

There was no response. But Harry thought he saw Draco lean into him just a fraction. If it did happen, Harry didn't give it a second thought because words were already coming of their own accord. "Scared, Draco?" Harry whispered. His body was thrumming to do something. He didn't know what though. No matter, he didn't wait to find out. He turned away after giving Draco one last look, and promptly left the room without turning back.

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Harry found Ron after he left the room.

He didn't know what came over him, what made him say the things he said or do the things he did. His insides were a mess: his stomach churned, his body trembled, his mind raced and his heart pounded.

He would have left the party altogether, but he knew that he had to wait. Wait it out and see if Draco would answer him. The Gryffindor in him called for it.

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Draco remained where he was, pressed against the wall as if someone was holding him there, keeping him there.

He couldn't believe what just happened. Did it happen?

Harry's words echoed in his mind.  _Play you… It's ugly… Humiliate you… Zacharias asked me… You mistook my words… Not leaving yet... Perfection… What is this?… I'm lost… tired of playing… I don't know why… Something's here… You can't cover it up…I hear this night will be rather memorable… Be honest… Scared, Draco?… Exactly my point…_  Draco found himself whispering Harry's words,  _Scared, Draco?_  And as soon as his own name left his mouth, all thoughts ceased. It was a moment of clarity. His feet began to move, taking him towards the opened door and back out to the Hufflepuff common room.

It wasn't difficult to find Harry. He just had to look where the crowd was. Harry was surrounded by his usual group of friends: Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Seamus, Terry, the list went on. And then there were the bystanders, the people who stared and hoped that they could get a glimpse of what was going on or overhear what was being said in the circle. Draco recalled the memory of Harry outside on the grounds, with the sun streaming down on him as he stood apart, but not outside of the group of people, who so obviously wanted his attention.

Draco would have been amused at this, but he didn't have time for it.

If he was ever going to own up to his feelings it would have to be now, when he knew exactly what he wanted.

Draco walked towards the group that everybody wanted to be a part of. His gaze never strayed from the one person who could either break him or complete him with a glance.

That's all it would take, Draco knew this. That was exactly what happened upon entering their first year. Potter decided how their relationship would be with just one glance, accompanied with a slur of words that had once echoed in his mind. But now it was replaced with a litany of other words:  _You can't cover it up… Not with me… I know you…Something's here… Draco…_

Draco pushed forward and found himself just behind the group in a matter of seconds. As he moved forward he did not notice that the group parted, allowing him entrance. He did not notice that conversation died down as he walked, enveloping the room in silence. He did not notice the flicker of anxiety wash over the face of a Hufflepuff blonde as he made his way to his destination.

Draco only noticed that Harry's eyes never looked quite so green before. And then he was there: in front of the very Boy Who Is His Undoing.

Draco did not say anything when he came to a stop inches--centimeters--close to the other boy. He didn't need to.

Right then, they were exactly on the same page when Harry brushed the soft blonde hair away from Draco's face and leaned in, as if it was something that he did every day, and captured his lips in a tentative kiss.

The kiss was a heartfelt touch, an unremembered pleasure. Draco couldn't help but lean in closer and ask for more.

Harry didn't deny him. The kiss deepened as both boys wrapped themselves into their own world where nothing else existed except for them. The kiss consumed their emotions and provided an outlet for suppressed feelings that neither boy wholly admitted they had.

Harry pulled Draco closer as if he did not even want the air to separate them.

Draco barely registered the hands that held his waist and ran gently--surely--at his sides and his lower back. He only felt the fire behind the touches that warmed and tingled him. His own hands moved unconsciously up Harry's chest, over his shoulders and around his neck.

When the kiss came to an end, Draco tilted his head so that their foreheads touched and their warm breaths that came out in gasps, intermingled, reminding them both what just happened.

Draco ran his fingers in Harry's soft, disheveled hair, loving the feeling of being able to touch, loving even more the feel of Harry's hands holding him at his waist. Draco thought this moment was more intimate than the kiss itself. For all that was behind the kiss and the feeling of wholeness it brought, the sensation of being held like this and knowing that neither pulled away, meant everything to Draco.

A second later, Draco found himself lost in another kiss. He didn't know who had initiated it, but he didn't care so long as it was with Harry. The kiss was not unlike the first one, but for some reason it felt  _more_. Maybe it was because he had already known what it would be like to kiss Harry and how he tasted like mint and chocolate, and found that he wanted and needed to taste him again and again like an insatiable addiction.

Harry couldn't think, but he didn't need to be coherent to do something that felt so natural, so right. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding along Draco's, tasting him and wanting more. He couldn't describe it but there was a fleeting thought that if sunshine can be tasted or scented, this would be it. Draco was sweet like citrus. It was inviting. Refreshing. Strong and soft. And completely arousing.

Draco felt the smile that crept on Harry's face as they pulled apart and Harry left lingering kisses along his jaw line. And It wasn't until he heard a deafening clearing of one's throat when everything came to a sudden halt. He opened his eyes and noted that Harry looked just as startled as he felt. Draco licked his lips and found his voice. "You wish."

Harry tilted his head in confusion, not comprehending for a moment. But when he saw the smile that tugged the corner of Draco's mouth, he recalled what he said earlier in the Hufflepuff girls' dormitory. Harry didn't say anything back, he only captured Draco's lips again.

And the world was forgotten once more.

 **END of ACT I**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This is Draco's flashback to the aforementioned dormitory encounter that "everyone" was talking about. You know, the rumor that Blaise was referring to in **scene iv**. This is what really happened, or at least, Draco's account of it. 2. I really wanted to put this in **scene v** but it grew so long that it started disrupting the story, hence the interlude. 3. Draco's POV. Scary, I know. This will be a bit OOC, sorry. But this is how I see Draco, a little unsure, but proud nonetheless. 4. This was originally written in third person, past. Don't ask why I changed it. I just did. If you find errors kindly point them out to me, and I shall fix. Thanks! (And I realize that this may be a bit inconsistent in terms of Harry and Draco's relationship prior to the prologue. But what the hell. This is an interlude.)

**interlude**   
_Cutting Room Floor of a Hufflepuff Girls' Dormitory_

ccc

 _[two seconds before end of potions]_

"Class dismissed."

In ninety seconds flat the entire potion's classroom was deserted from students. Save for the exception of two (not including myself).

Granger and Potter were the two exceptions. Granger, I could understand. As loathe as it is to admit, she is the top of the class.

But Potter? To stay behind willingly? That's like, like inconceivable.

Potter's gaze is fixed on the back of Snape's head, watching his every move as he cleans the board.

I don't think Potter realizes that I am in the room when he stands up, makes his way to the front of the room and speaks to the potions master. "Professor, may I have a word with you?"

I crane my neck to hear the Professor's reply. I don't hear anything. But by the hint of a smile that appears, Potter clearly gets what he wants.

I gather my things when Potter and Granger turn to leave.

I prepare myself for a scathing remark. It is ready at the tip of my tongue when they approach my desk. However, my preparation is pointless as Potter simply nods his head, merely acknowledging my presence.

What? Is that it? No Insult?

I don't know why this appalls me but it does. Does he think that just because I'm on his side now, he can just pass me by and say nothing? Nothing at all. Like I'm not worth speaking to. Like I'm not worth his attent--acknowledgment? What of our history? Who does he think he is? Stupid Potter, what an inconsiderate, self righteous freak.

I am Draco Malfoy. Malfoys do not get ignored, especially by Harry Potter.

 _[an account of what happened just before lunch break]_

 _Dear Journal,_

 _I've written this several times before, but I'll write it again: My father once told me that physical violence was beneath a Malfoy._

 _So imagine my shock when Potter decided to be his brute self and punched me for no reason at all. Does he not realize what he did? How dare he punch a Malfoy? Malfoys are abovephysical violence._

 _His disgusting, awful muggle upbringing probably kept him to his ignorant ways._

 _He also ruined my shirt. For that alone, there is no excuse for it. I may have a wardrobe full of them but that's beside the point._

 _The point is is that all I did was say some words. The words themselves don't matter. As such, I don't recall what they were._

 _But for some reason, when Potter and his friends came out of the library I just had this urge to say something. To do something. A temporary lapse is what it was._

 _It's thrilling to know that I could still get a rise out of Potter. It was an encounter that happened numerous times before. However, this time, thistime the encounter did not stop at words._

 _This time we had ended up on the floor, fighting. Fighting!_

 _By the time McGonagall found us, I had a cut lip and a sore eye to match. Damn him. Damn her for not showing up four seconds earlier. Or four minutes later. Or for showing up._

 _When I pushed Potter off of me I noticed he had to catch his breath._

 _My father told me that physical violence is nothing compared to hexes that can properly punish your opponent. But I reason that hitting your rival where it hurts the most brings a certain personal gratification that a spell wouldn't have accomplished. Therefore, my act was perfectly justified._

 _Additionally, when the outcome is being able to see your said rival doubled over and trying to breathe as if the air around him wasn't enough to fill his lungs... well, that's a job well executed._

 _And most importantly--let's make this one clear: I took the breath out of him. End of story._

 _According to McGonagall though, there's more to the story. The fight landed us in detention. Still, it's worth it._

 _McGonagall instructed us to catch a rat that had taken residence in the Hufflepuff house without the use of magic. She, apparently, lost her touch. It would be thus far, the easiest detention in the history of Hogwarts!_

 _Always,_

 _-DM_

 _[later...]_

After two hours and no sign of success, the detention proves to be the worst one yet.

The rat is no ordinary creature by any means. We tried setting mouse traps, luring it with food and lunging to catch it (or at least, Potter did). Nothing worked!

The only thing in our favor is that aside from us, the room is vacant. Not that I want to be alone with Potter. Rather, the appeal is that there were no Hufflepuffs to badger me. Badger--hee! And people say I have no sense of humor.

The next hour consisted several attempts to catch the damn rat. For Potter's part: that was two unsuccessful lunges, a whole lot of waiting and a great deal of Potter cursing. I had set nine mousetraps. At hour's end, I am overwhelmed with hunger.

"I'm hungry," I say after setting up another mousetrap. I don't expect Potter to do anything. He, obviously, is useless. However, he should at least acknowledge my state of hunger. I turn to face him.

Instead of answering me, Potter sits on the floor, leans back on the wall behind him and closes his eyes.

I almost ask what's the matter, but then I remember that he ignored me. Malfoys do not get ignored.

"I said I'm hungry," I repeat, looking at Potter expectantly. Nothing. "I'm--

"So get something to eat," he says, without opening his eyes.

For a moment I wonder what just happened. When did he become so… so frustratingly calm?

But then I realize I don't like his answer.

I'm hungry and then he feeds me a ridiculous line. I glare at his prone figure.

Several long moments pass. It could have been hours or mere seconds. I don't know which.

Neither of us move from our positions.

This is how Professor Snape finds us.

"If you both have time to be lounging about, being useless, when you should be trying to find the beast that may be multiplying this very moment, then you should have plenty of time to clean the whole house. Top to bottom. Your detention will not end until you've caught the rat and the occupants to this house are satisfied of its cleanliness. Understood?"

"Yes sir," I say. I look over to Potter and I notice that he didn't so much as change his position when Snape came in, save for the affirming nod of his head.

Once the Professor leaves, I resume my death glare. This time he meets my eyes.  _This_ time I'm sure my glare will work. There's still no reaction. Why isn't it working? What is he, immune? Unbelievable. No, what is unbelievable is him chuckling at my glare. Chuckling!

"Fuck, Malfoy, just deal with it. This is your fault anyway."

I open my mouth to dispute but a hand clamps over my mouth, which muffles my protest.

Potter puts a finger to his own mouth, telling me to be silent and then drops his hand.

I don't have time to defy his silent order. I'm much too surprised to do so.

It's like Potter is a different person. His face tells me nothing, but there is caution and excitement in the depths of his green eyes. I follow Potter's lead through a hall. This is what he must be like when he goes off on his rumored adventures with the do-gooders he calls friends. And no doubt, proceeds to break hundreds of rules in the process.

A second later I hear it. A scratching noise across the floor. Or wall? I angle my body towards the ground to see if I could follow the sound, but I lose track of it, making me wonder if I even heard it at all.

A presence behind me startles me. How did he get there so fast? I turn my head to look at him.

"What?" I mouth silently. I stand to my full height when Harry points in front of us and nods towards a couch. He must have seen where it went.

Potter places a hand to my shoulder to keep me in place, telling me not to move. Again I comply, knowing that movement could scare off the rat. I would do anything at this point to end detention. Potter grabs one of the buckets that Snape had left for the cleaning and then he's back in the hall again, behind me. To say the situation is uncomfortable would be an understatement. A dire understatement. Does he not know the concept of personal space?

Given the fact that he's pressed up against me--so close that I could feel the heat coming off of him in waves, soaking my own skin--the answer is no. He has no idea of the concept.

It grows hotter by the second. Is it natural to give off such heat? My thoughts are cut short when I realize that he is mouthing something. I don't understand at all. The only thing I learn from his display is that Potter's breath against my cheek is just as warm as his body. Hotter even. Not that Potter is hot in any way. Well, he is, in means of temperature that is. Not in any way else.

Potter holds up a finger and silently mouths  _'one'_.

I nod, but I am still lost. Does he expect me to understand what must be his Gryffindor-speak?

I turn my head to see him more clearly, and he points to one side of the couch and then at me. And then he holds up two fingers and points to himself and then the other side of the couch. Maybe it is the heat or maybe it is because I'm a fast learner that Potter's instructions become clear. I nod my understanding.

I shift slightly, and that clearly was a mistake. Potter seemed to think that was an invitation to get even closer.

I don't know why, but I have this fleeting image of something that has no connection to this situation whatsoever. But it does involve the couch and possibly a--Nothing more needs to be said on that subject. Just know it was appalling. Sordid, really. All it was was one of my brilliant plans to seduce-- _seductively_ (because everything I do is seductive, obviously) kill Potter.

Potter moves, and I feel his breath against my ear again. And again it distracts me from my thoughts. Except, did it just get even hotter? In the corner of my eye, I see him raise the bucket he is holding and mouths  _'on three.'_

I nod again and roll my eyes. Gryffindor-speak is so easy to decipher in its obviousness. It's no wonder they wanted me on their side. However, because I want to get out of detention as soon as possible, I listen to the four eyed git. The plan may be just as stupid as the person giving the instructions and may just as well fail, but there is no question that Potter tends to be lucky.

I turn to look for the rat and there it is, at the side of the sofa.

The rat is eating a piece of cheese I had left on one of the mousetraps. The mousetrap is laid overturned on the side of the couch. Did I say that the rat is no ordinary creature?

Potter's hand is at my shoulder and his breath is on my cheek. Again! I feel, rather than hear, the distinctive whisper of his orders.

"One... Two... Three."

And all at once there is quiet movement. I step into the room taking the longest strides I can until I am at the side of the couch and behind the rat. Before I know it, Potter is at the other end. We did it. We encircled the rat. Just one more step.

Harry is at the ready, his bucket poised. Just one more step.

And at that precise moment, I hear a commotion outside the door. Our eyes meet for a brief second and we turn our attention to the rat, who looks like... a rat about to be caught. Without another moment to lose, we both lunge from our positions.

Everything moves too slowly except for time itself. Too much is going on at once. I hear frantic screams that is neither mine nor Potter's. I barely register the sound. The only thing clear is the blur of the rat's tail as it disappears underneath a door.

"Fuck it, bloody rat." I hear Potter mutter.

We are a tangle of limbs. I can't tell where my body ends and his begins. A frightening moment. How can I mistake my own body for another's, let alone Potter's?

"What?" I hear myself asking.

"What? Wait, Malfoy, you're bleeding."

"What? Where?" I try to look for the blood. I find nothing. For some reason things seem to go awfully slow and I am still wondering which leg is mine, and then suddenly all I am aware of... is Potter. He is beside me and putting pressure above my eye.

I want to push him away from me. However, things are just going too slow, and my body too heavy. And where are my arms?

Somehow, I reach a hand up. Or is it Potter's? I feel something warm and wet. When I bring my hand down--or is it Potter's?--I see red.

I wake up in the Hospital Wing. And Potter is standing by my bed.

"You're awake," the dark haired boy states the obvious..

"As are you. What am I doing here?"

"I think you hit your head on the bucket when we went for the rat. When you saw the blood or from having lost the blood, you fainted."

"I assure you, Potter, I did not faint."

"Whatever, Malfoy." Potter chuckles. "Now, sit up. I brought you food."

"I'm not hungry," I say automatically. Really, I'm starving. But it's too late. I can't take my words back.

When Potter shifts his weight, I notice his white sleeved shirt is stained with blood. My blood. And that Potter did indeed bring food. Lots of it, in fact.

"Where's Madam Pomfrey?" I tug the covers more tightly around myself. It's cold for some reason.

"She's talking with Snape," Potter answers as he sits in a chair next to my bed.

"How long was I out--asleep for?"

"Not long. Maybe fifteen minutes. Pomfrey just got finished with your bandages before you woke up."

"Why are you still here?"

Potter's shrugs his shoulders. "You said you were hungry before. You should eat." A beat. "I wouldn't want you to faint again." Potter grins.

That response naturally earns Potter a pillow to his face. Unfortunately, he catches it before it hits him. Damn him.

Snape chooses that moment to walk in through the double doors. And he doesn't waste any time to give out orders. "You eat." He nods at me. "You," he says to Potter. "Go back to Hufflepuff house. They evacuated the premises now that they are aware there is a rat amongst them--"

Snapes's orders are cut short when Potter snorts. "You've got to be kidding me," Potter says, disbelievingly. "It's only a rat."

"Believe me, Mr. Potter, I do not as you call it, 'kid.' Now, if you are finished with interrupting me," Snape pauses and waits for Potter's nod before he continues: "You will start helping their move as the Hufflepuffs will be temporarily sleeping in the common rooms of the other three houses. And now because of your failure..." Snape eyes us both. "In addition to catching the rat and cleaning the house, you will both have to help in accommodating the Hufflepuffs' sleeping arrangements. You will be helping with moving mattresses, linens, blankets--All of which you will do without the use of magic. If the transition does not move smoothly in any way, you will both be held for further detention and  _I_ will be the one to decide how it will be carried out. Understood?"

Did that mean someone else was deciding our detention and Snape was merely giving out the directions?

Harry and I both verbalize our understanding and Snape turns around to leave the wing, his robes billowing behind him.

"At this rate I'm sure he'd resort us to Hufflepuff, a punishment worse than death." I shiver at the thought.

"Hufflepuff isn't that bad." Potter laughs. It is only after his reply when I realize that I said my thoughts out loud.

"Oh, come on, Potter. We would have caught that rat if they didn't start screaming their heads off when they came in."

"I guess you're right on that one," Potter says as he stands up.

"Where are you going?"

"To start helping them move," Ha says as he brings over the tray of food, settles it above my lap and turns to leave.

"Potter?" I don't know why I call out his name. I must have hit my head harder than I thought. Well, whatever it was, I said it. Now Potter is looking at me, waiting. So I announce the first thing that came to mind: "We just had a conversation." Yes, I did hit my head harder than I thought.

Potter must have been out of sorts as well because he replies with a grin. He never did that before, at least, not with me. "I know. Now eat, I'm not going to be moving all their shit alone."

 _[a few hours later...]_

We have the Hufflepuff dorms cleared out of Hufflepuffs and their night commodities in an hour and some minutes. It turned out an easy task as no one had given us any problems.

Nevertheless, it was rather annoying that we had to actually deal with the Hufflepuffs and their frivolities. Especially one in particular: a blonde who followed Potter around, asking him all sorts of inane questions.

He wasn't like the other Potter fans. This one was bold enough to actually outright flirt and even touch him--not that I care. But really, did Potter warrant all that kind of attention?

Sure he faced You Know Who on reportedly several occasions, and so what if he is decent looking even with his stupid shiny unruly hair, horrendous glasses that covers his green, _green_ eyes and an unpleasant scar that marred his otherwise innocent face. Not to mention his unfortunate Gryffindoric qualities: his too friendly, trusting personality, his awful taste in friends and his disgusting loyalty to them. And also, there's the fact that he has the ability to be brave when the situation calls for it. On top of that, he embarrasses easily, and he's so obvious about it when he does this hyperventilating thing that's really kind of cute. Wait. What am I going on about? Did I just associate 'cute' with Potter? Perhaps I have brain damage.

Right, so, this blond Hufflepuff boy was irritating the hell out of me. And Potter was... encouraging it or something because as the hour wore into the night, it only got worse. The Hufflepuff boy, who I'm pretty sure dyes his hair (because there is no way he is a natural blond) was relentless.

I don't know how I managed it, but I kept quiet as they prattled on as if they were the best of friends when I know that he never approached Potter before. Or, well, I've never seen it happen. It's simply irritating. On that note, I will  _not_ think on the matter why that was so.

"Looks like you've made a new friend today," I say when the last of the Hufflepuffs are out of the way and the common room is deserted save for us. That is, for Potter and I to finish our detention in relative peace, of course.

Harry shrugs his shoulders. "He's nice."

"And so in love with you," I mutter. Don't ask me where I am going with this. I don't rightly know. Maybe I can use it for blackmail? Yeah, that must be it. I am a genius without even thinking.

"Whatever, Malfoy. Fuck, I'm tired," Harry says as he plops on the couch, closing his eyes.

I do the same on the opposite end, only more gracefully. I catch Potter peering at me.

"Hey, Malfoy," he says. "You don't suppose Snape meant for us to stay here until we've caught the rat, do you? I mean, what happens if it takes us days?"

"It's not going to take us days, Potter. It's only one rat, how difficult can it be?"

Potter closes his eyes again as he leans his head back onto the cushion of the couch. "Apparently, difficult enough that I had to carry you to the hospital wing after you faint--fell asleep." Potter smirks.

Can you believe the nerve of him?

"If you were competent in carrying out your pathetic plan then--"

"I didn't hear you coming up with any sort of plan, Malfoy. I'd shut it if I were you," Potter says, his eyes meeting mine.

"Or what, Potter, you'll hit me? Enjoy bringing pain, do you, Potter? You and your self righteous friends go on about how--"

"I don't want to hear what you have to say about my friends," Potter says, evenly. However, the air around him is anything but. "You don't know what you are on about." Objects rattle and the very floor seems to tremble but it stops not a second later, leaving me to wonder if it happened at all. But I know better. The distinct taste of magic is in the room.

Before I can say anything, Potter continues: "I… umm, I think, I think we should finish cleaning house tonight, to get it out of the way," he says this in a softer voice.

I find myself nodding. It seems that Potter is trying to gloss over what happened. I meet his eyes with my own. I see a flicker of something in them, but it is gone before I can make sense of it. "I concur, but I have a stipulation," I say, good naturedly, bringing back the light air into the room.

A sheepish grin appears on Pottr's face and he arches a questioning brow. "And that would be?"

"You will not use the bucket for no other purpose than what it is intended for."

I don't know why but when Potter's grin turns into a smile and laughs, I find myself relieved. Not because I am scared of him or anything of that sort, but because… well, it's rather inexplicable.

"Right," he says. "But I thought buckets are multipurpose."

"I'm sure clogging one's head with it while unsuccessfully catching a rather monstrous rat is not one of its intended purposes," I say with a smirk of my own.

Harry laughs again. "You have a point there." And then in an even softer voice: "About that, Malfoy, I'm sorry. I--"

"No matter. It was an accident."

Potter doesn't say anything, but nods.

It may not have been obvious but this is the first time that one of our… disagreements ended like this. Somehow, and for some reason in that moment, it's important. "So, about the rat, any other ideas?"

"I think we should leave the rat alone for the time being... give the rat a false sense of security, right? Let it think we're not looking for it and then catch it in its moment of weakness."

"That's very Slytherin of you, Potter."

"Don't remind me." I hear Potter say under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What?"

"You said 'don't remind me.'"

"Hmm."

He doesn't say anything further and neither do I for some seconds, or has it been minutes? However long it was, it all seemed sort of surreal.

Potter slouches further into the couch, his neck curving against the cushion, exposing the tanned flesh of the column of his throat and a prominent adams apple. His position caused him to sit low in the seat so that his legs splayed out. What horrible posture. His hair is disheveled, more so than it usually is. His eyes are closed again, and his lips slightly parted. And I don't know why but the room seems hot again. Why does Potter seem to have an effect on the temperature at these odd moments?

It's all kind of unsettling, really. How could he just sit there... like that? Open and...

I guess that's the difference between us. I would not ever be caught with my walls down, leaving myself defenseless in front of my… enemy? Nemesis? Rival? Stupid Potter.

Or is that what he wants me to think? Perhaps, perhaps he didn't let his guard down at all. So, I watch him. And it has nothing to do with the voice in my head, telling me that I want to run my hands through his hair. The voice has it all wrong. It must be because I had hit my head. I should have it checked. Again. I mean, first it's making me make sense out of our rather amicable conversations of late, and now this? It's ridiculous. My poor, damaged brain.

And it is all Potter's fault.

"I'll start with the dusting," I hear myself say as I stand.

"But that will leave me to the floors," Harry says, looking startled. But I'm onto him. I am certain that he was alert the entire time. He can't get past me.

"What. Do you really expect  _me_ to get on my hands and knees?" Merlin, did I just say that? Hoping Potter didn't catch on, I quickly add: "I would very much prefer to do it standing up." I wince. Just how much is my brain addled?

"I'll remember that." Potter smirks. Smirks!

I glare daggers at him. How is he getting my words to betray me?

We work quietly after that, until we are satisfied the house would deem clean enough for the Hufflepuffs and meet Snape's approval.

"What time is it?" I ask as I stretch and yawn.

"Close to midnight," Potter says, as he drops himself on the common room couch again, but taking the whole of the couch this time.

I sit in one of the lounge chairs to the right of him. "Thank Merlin, we have no classes tomorrow morning."

"Potter?" I say, after I don't get a response. "Potter?" Asleep, is he? Figures.

There would have been a time when an opportunity such as this wouldn't be wasted. It would have been the perfect time to exact my revenge on him for being so cruel to me in the past, for humiliating me, for all those times he bested me, for insulting me, for choosing Weasley over me, for… Maybe I'm just too tired.

I get up to find myself a blanket and I come back with two. Why I did that... I'm sure even Merlin doesn't know. I cover Potter with one of them. I did have two blankets and I wouldn't want him to get sick. I mean, I'm not going to catch the rat by myself. Better to let Potter handle the beast.

As for why I watch him sleep, well, that is because I, unlike him, am not an idiot. I wouldn't fall asleep in front of my rival--nemesis--enemy-- _whatever_. Unless, I am completely sure that it is safe.

Potter is just a few feet away. He snores. It is so like him to be annoying even when he's asleep. His chest rises and falls evenly, and his face is at ease. His dark, wild hair frames his face and it is bathed under the moonlight that creeps in from the high windows. He looks like a fallen angel.

Safe.

I wake up to screaming.

It takes me a second to gather my surroundings before I realize where I am and what the sound is. It takes only another second to get to Potter's side and call him to wake up.

"It was just a nightmare, just a nightmare," I tell him when he wakes. He's all gasps and choked back sobs. I've never seen him like this before. He looks so far removed and unlike himself I forget that it is Potter in front of me. "It was only a nightmare..." I'm not sure if I'm reassuring him or myself.

"Shit," Potter says when he gets enough air in him to breathe.

I kneel beside the couch, not knowing what to do in a situation like this. I turn my gaze away to look out the window. The sun is still nowhere in sight, but the glow of the full moon afforded enough light so that Potter's features are recognizable. I wait until Potter's breathing returns to normal before I ask any questions. I am only curious. That's all.

I had heard rumors of his dreams that would wake his dorm mates from their slumber.

What would cause Potter to be so frightened in his sleep when I've never seen him afraid awake? Would he tell me what it was about?

I think not. We are hardly friends. Asking what his dream was about is not an option.

"Do they happen often?" I hear myself asking, my voice, a mere whisper but audible in the stillness of the room.

He nods and sits up. "Sorry if I woke you."

His answer, though it was only a nod, was unexpected. Could I get away with asking another?

Potter runs his hands through his sweat soaked hair and rubs his eyes.

I could always ask him later. That is, if i'm still curious. Not that I care or anything.

I stand and stretch, and realize that I slept in a lounge chair and that I'm sore from sleeping in an odd position.

"You slept there?" He asks, like he was reading my thoughts.

I nod.

Potter unbuttons the white sleeved shirt he had fallen asleep in, and then proceeds to unbuckle his belt. I don't watch as he does this, but I'm aware of it anyway. And more to the point, what the hell is he doing?

"Oh, err, well, it's hot," Potter says, when he meets my eyes.

I guess he wants to explain his inappropriate display. And that's what it was, inappropriate.

He turns away, his cheeks flushing. A beat later: "Fuck it, I don't know what's considered normal in your dorm, but in mine, sleeping in boxers is hardly something to get your knickers in a twist over," He says as he pulls off his jeans in one go and then plops back onto the couch. His arms and legs splay out, seemingly, to let the cool air wash over his damp skin. Again, not that I am looking.

"I'll have you know that if we did, we wouldn't have made a show of it," I say. "And I don't wear knickers."

Potter looks at me again. "It's an expression, Malfoy."

"I know it is. I just wanted to point it out."

"Ah, I see, for a second there I thought it was a cover up."

"You wish."

"I do, actually." Potter smirks and then winks. Winks!

"I… What? What's with you, Potter?" I say with not as much bite than I thought I had intended.

Potter shifts his position in his makeshift bed. "How do you mean?"

I shrug, not really knowing what I meant either. "You answer my questions without a scathing retort. You're being… nice, in a way. That is, to me. I mean… why?"

"I dunno really. And besides, I thought that we uhm grew out of it. Or something. That is, before this… before yesterday afternoon happened." Potter glares at me as he refers to our fight in the hall, but then continues in a different note, "Forget it. You know, I'm always nice, Malfoy" Potter says, as he turns to look at the ceiling, as if he was searching for an answer. "I could have been nice to you." He pauses for a brief second. "I mean, I'm nice unless you give me reason not to be--Why do you have to insult my friends, Malfoy?" Potter finishes in a half whisper.

Well, isn't that a surprise?

A seemingly honest reply.

His words brought me back to a memory I had casted aside or placed my anger atop of. It was a memory wherein he didn't accept my hand in friendship. "Maybe, maybe because I didn't know what else to say to you," I whisper. It's the first thought that came to mind.

[ _three hours later_ ]

"Malfoy? Hey, Malfoy, wake up," Potter says, somewhere above me.

I open my eyes to the smarting sun. "It's too early, Potter." I close my eyes again.

I open them again when Potter shakes my shoulder. "Come on, you normally wake 'fore me, or, at least you're at breakfast first. And I'm sure you take hours to get ready in--

"How do you know I don't naturally look perfect in the morning?"

"Who said anything about looking perfect?" Potter asks with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, come on Malfoy, you just woke up now and I can very well see you. You are far from the image of you at breakfast."

"Are you suggesting--

"I'm not suggesting anything, Malfoy. Now get up and hurry. I want to show you something," He says, hastily, and then a second later he's gone from my vantage point on the couch. A rush of cool air that wasn't there before causes me to shiver.

"Potter? Potter, where are you?"

Potter, still stripped to his boxers, comes out of a room with a smile plastered on his face. "Come on, you have to see this, and come quietly," he says in a whisper and disappears in the room again.

I sigh and make my way to the room Potter went into. And then I see it, or rather, several its.

The rat that Potter and I were so desperately trying to catch is there, asleep, along with a dozen or so babies cuddled together in an overturned bucket. I look at Potter. He kneels close to the bucket and turns his head to meet my eyes. He puts a finger to his lips and a smile appears in his eyes. The sight is rather cute--the rats, I mean.

Potter waves a hand over the opening of the bucket. And if I'm not mistaken, he placed a shield over it. Was that just controlled wandless and wordless magic? I dart my eyes to his, but his face is turned away from me. I look back at the bucket, which now, after second inspection, looks more like a rather girly looking waste basket.

Potter slowly turns it right side up. "They're cute, aren't they?" He waves me over.

I step closer and peer in. The rats are waking from their slumber. "What did you do?"

"Righting the basket."

"No, I mean, before... You casted a spell."

"Oh," Potter says and stands up, he laughs uneasily and brings a hand to the back of his neck and rubs it as he looks away.

"Well?"

"Uh, that. It was... I didn't want them to wake from the cold before you woke. I just wanted you to see so I… I casted a warming spell. And… and they were waking just now and I didn't want them--especially the one we were to catch--to escape, so, so I guess I placed a shield over the opening," he says in a rush.

"In other words, you could do wandless and wordless magic. Controlled at that, Potter."

"Um, no, not really."

"That's exactly what you did. Is that how you caught them? What else can you do.?"

"No. Nothing I… I…No," Potter stutters and then kneels again in front of the basket.

I do the same and peer into it again. The shield is still intact. It was invisible, but I could feel it there.

I look at Potter and our eyes meet.

He looks down again. "I woke up early and I didn't have anything to do. I got bored and didn't want to wake you. So I kind of just wandered around. I ended up here and that's when I found the rats. They were already in the bucket. It must have been knocked over while we were moving the Hufflepuffs. And I told you the rest... Look, Malfoy, I'm telling you the truth. I can't really do wandless magic. I can't control it. It happens sometimes. Sometimes when I want it to. Normally, when I don't. I mean, someone told me that sometimes it happens to young wizards--"

"When they are toddlers or a little older than that when one is really emotional. But, Potter, you're sixteen. And you controlled it!"

"Look, Malfoy, I'm telling you, I can't really control it. You believe me, right? It's normal, right?" Potter looks at me, his eyes are opened wide and pleading.

"Right," I say, whispering. I know that what just happened isn't normal. Normal sixteen year old wizards can't do wandless and wordless magic so effortlessly. We use wands to channel our magical power,  _that_ is normal. Only few gifted wizards are known to have possessed enough power to wield their magic without a wand, and even fewer were able to carry the spell out successfully. What Harry did wasn't normal. Not by any means. But he seems to think it is.

"I believe you," I say as I look at the rats. "You think you can end the spells? If Snape finds out that magic was involved in catching her, I'm sure he'll extend our detention and make us clean the lavatories or something."

"Right." Potter nods, his shoulders relaxing as he sighs. "Right. Um, well, I guess I could try." He looks at me hesitantly and then back at the bucket. He bites his lip, waves a hand over the bucket and says clearly,  _"Finite Incantatem."_

And just like that the magic disappears. "You know, I said I believed you, and I do. But just so you know, wandless magic, it's not normal. It's better than normal, Potter."

Potter averts his eyes. "Can we just… can we like forget it happened? You won't tell, will you?"

I bite my lip. Honestly, I wouldn't want to keep something like this a secret. It's simply too amazing.

When I decided to join the Order, I knew that I picked the right side for what it stood for. And for what the other side  _didn't_ stand for. I knew what needed to happen, what it would cost our side. What it would cost both sides even. It would mean war; a terrible destruction, and not of our doing and not from our choosing. Inevitable though. But our side will be victorious. I knew this to be fact. I also knew it would be difficult as the odds were against us. But in the end, it wouldn't matter. I knew that winning would mean taking down the most powerful dark lord the wizarding world has ever known. I knew that Harry Potter would be the one to go against this dark lord. I knew all this when I joined the Order. But it's only now that I realized that this person, this person who is kneeling beside me in front of a basket full of rats will be the one to win the war.

"I won't tell," I say.  _I won't tell._

Potter grins. "Thanks."

I nod. I'm not sure what to do with myself so I dip a hand into the bucket and pick up a baby rat. It's a black one, and has the pinkest nose. "I'm going to keep one."

 **END of interlude**


	8. Chapter 8

**ACT II  
scene i**   
_After the Kiss_

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The express ride home was torturous for Draco. He wanted to stay at Hogwarts as it was decided that Harry would be staying to train with Snape for the better part of the summer.

Draco cursed the world for being in danger from a lunatic of a dark lord and for needing his Harry-- _boyfriend?_  For needing Harry Potter to save it from destruction. Draco scowled at the thought that he didn't even have time to sort out with Harry whether or not they were boyfriends. Sure, they kissed that night at the Hufflepuff party and shared a kiss before he left, but what did that mean? Were they  _in_  a relationship now? He knew he was over-thinking, but was it so much to ask that he wanted to make it official? He recalled his last moment with Harry.

The students of Hogwarts all boarded the express at the last minute, not really wanting to leave but anticipating the thought of seeing their families. In the case of Draco Malfoy, he had waited till the very last second.

Those on the train and had peered outside their windows, caught a most unusual act between the infamous rivals turned lovers.

Draco and Harry had stood inches from each other. They didn't, at first, say anything at all, a silence had enveloped them after their friends had boarded. A 'what now' effect lingered in the air.

Harry had been the first to break the silence. It would be his first words directed to Draco since the kiss that took place at the party. "You better go before the train leaves."

Draco had nodded, hiding a nervous grin. Draco had no clue what was to be done or what was to be said in these types of situations. He looked back at the train and then back to Harry. "Right, I'll be off then."

The words that had been at the tips of their tongues were left unsaid as the two boys shared a tumultuous look that conveyed the emotions that were felt in the swell of their chests.

The blow of the horn, which signaled the final call for boarding, had caused Harry to stir. Unconsciously, he ran a hand through his hair as if needing to flatten it, but only succeeded in ruffling it further.

Draco had smiled and stepped closer to Harry, so that he could take a defiant lock of hair atop of Harry's head between his fingers and smooth it down. And then with a final look, he had turned to leave.

But two steps up the train's stairs, Harry had called up to him, "Hey, Malfoy!"

Draco had turned, and saw Harry run up to meet him.

And before he knew it, Harry had him leaning down to meet his lips. He had felt Harry's hand cup the back of his head, tilting it for better access.

Draco's hands came to rest at Harry's shoulders, steadying himself, or maybe it had beem to keep Harry there so that they'd never part.

The horn had blown twice in quick succession, telling them the doors would be closing. Harry had reluctantly ended the kiss and stepped backwards. "I'll see you, Draco."

And that was it. The doors had closed and Draco felt the train shift into motion, taking him farther and farther, and farther away by the second.

Tick, tick... tick.

"Why me?" Draco mumbled, as he buried his face in his hands after several long minutes. He was sitting across from Pansy and beside Blaise in their compartment.

"Why you? Draco, dearest, are you on about not being able to stay behind with Potter again? As unfair I'm sure you think it is, the world doesn't revolve around you," Pansy sing-songed the last of her statement, and grinned when Draco glared at her.

"Ah, Pans, the filling to my peach pie, don't be so hard on the boy. He can't help it," Blaise said.

Draco threw an appreciative glance over his shoulder towards the darker boy.

Blaise grinned and then looked at Pansy again. "After all, he's in luurvee."

"Ha, ha, ha," Draco said, dryly. "Think you're comedians, do you? Think it'll still be funny if I ruin your fragile safety net?"

"Now, that's not very funny, Draco. And you woudn't do that. Remember, unity and shit?" Blaise said.

Draco rolled his eyes and ignored the boy.

"Come now, Draco, don't be like that. There's plenty of time to be bitter and so little to just... you know?" Blaise said, looking from Draco to the floor.

Draco understood this. He knew that the war was just around the corner, waiting to surprise them all with its ugliness. "I know. I know," Draco whispered.

"So, tell us," Blaise said, in all seriousness. "Was kissing Harry Potter just as you imagined?"

Draco smacked the back of the other boy's head, but couldn't hide his grin.

ccc

"Draco, my… you've grown."

"Mother," Draco said, as he allowed his mother to wrap her thin arms around him. "Are you not well? It wouldn't do to wear yourself over father's imprud--"

"Now, Draco, I will not have you talk ill of your father. You should know better," Narcissa cut in before Draco said anything she knew he would regret.

"Yes, mother," Draco answered without a hint of inflection, as if he were asked if his favorite colour was green,  _yes, mother._

Narcissa nodded and then took in the boy who was standing to the side of Draco. "Oh Blaise, darling, what a fine young man you turned out to be," Narcissa said as she took his hand into hers. "So, you will be staying with us until your mother is back from the states."

"If it's not too much trouble, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Of course not, and please, call me Narcissa. You're not a little boy anymore. Honestly, it makes me feel old coming from such a young man."

"Narcissa then." Blaise smiled.

"Good." She smiled, and then turned to her son. "Darling, why don't you get him settled in. Dinner will be served early. Blaise, I do hope you will tell me everything that has been going on at Hogwarts. Draco is always so secretive. It pains me."

"It will be a pleasure to tell you  _everything_ , Narcissa." Blaise grinned and waggled a brow at Draco, who shot him a warning glare.

"Actually, I'd love to tell you myself," Draco said.

"You surely have grown." Narcissa smiled. "Dinner will be served promptly in an hour."

ccc

After dinner, Draco was glad he was finally in the comfort of his bed. Draco felt relieved and somewhat bare now that someone outside of Hogwarts, let alone his mother, knew that he had his first kiss and with a boy at that. It somehow made it seem all the more real. Draco sighed in content. He wondered how he would feel like when or if he revealed that he shared the kiss with Harry Potter, but the thought was cut short when Blaise walked in the room.

Draco transfigured his desk chair into a bed for the other boy, who promptly dropped himself into it. "Comfortable?" Draco questioned.

"Very. Thanks."

Draco smiled. When they were younger, they used to share rooms and even beds on occasion, when they slept in each other's homes. It would drive their parents mad because obviously, they didn't need to as there were several guest rooms, but Draco always liked having someone else in the room.

"So, Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean. And you can't keep me in the dark."

"Sure I can," Draco said, as he put out the candles that were lighting the room. "Goodnight."

"Come on, Draco, you can't have just kissed Potter and not tell me what it was like. Details, I want details."

"Blaise, I'm not some girl who kisses and tells," Draco said, turning to face the other boy.

"No, you aren't. But if you were a guy you'd be bragging of your conquest," muttered Blaise.

Draco rolled his eyes. He would have told Blaise. It was difficult to contain his excitement every time he recalled the recent memory. And he knew the excitement wouldn't allow him to sleep anyway. His body thrummed, his heart swelled and his thoughts raced as he licked his lips, remembering the kiss. No, sleep would not come easily.

So, he would have told his friend all about his first, second, and third kiss with Harry. He would have told Blaise how Harry was a fantastic kisser. Sure Draco had no experience to compare it with, but he would have told him exactly that. He would have said that Harry tasted of mint and chocolate, and his tongue could do wonderful things that made his toes curl inside his shoes. He would have told his friend how Harry had held him and how he felt like fire beneath his fingers. He would have gone into detail just when Harry's irises turned his favorite shade of green and sparkled with an intensity he didn't think possible, and how his lips felt against his own when Harry smiled.

He would have told Blaise everything, that is, if it didn't mean so much to him. No, he wanted to keep it to himself. It was his moment. And frankly, he didn't want to share it.

Let him wonder for now. Let them all wonder what it's like to kiss Harry Potter. **  
**  
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	9. Chapter 9

**  
**scene ii**   
**   
_Counter-clockwise Dreams_

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"Out with it, Potter. I don't appreciate being gawked--"

"Wha--I am  _not_ gawking!" Harry scoffed.

"I gather your pathetic upbringing has taught you to interrupt as well?" Snape raised a questioning brow and met Harry's incredulous eyes. "Yes, gawking, as in staring rudely, gazing. Need I proceed? Gaping, ogling--

"Ogling? I was  _not_ ogling. And if I were, I mean, like I would, or, I wouldn't be--that is to say, I wasn't ogling, sir." Harry trailed off, deciding that he did need to speak with the professor on an important matter and if he wanted a straight answer it would be smart to not get on the man's bad side, or rather, on his worse side.

"Eloquent as always, Potter. Will you be spouting more of your fluent lines and thereby telling me what is on your muddled mind then? Or perhaps, you'd rather I cast a  _Legilimens_?"

"No! I--no, sir, that won't be necessary. I wanted to know if Malfoy will be called as well."

"Of course, Potter. The Dark Lord always did need his right hand to function."

"I meant to ask of Draco Malfoy, sir."

Severus glanced at Harry who was currently stirring the potion they were brewing. The potions master noted that during their conversation Harry was able to keep his hand relaxed and was moving in a clockwise steady manner at the precise angle that the potion called for. Harry's mind was obviously on another matter, and yet, he brewing a complex potion as if it were second nature.  _Potter really had come a long way in such a short amount of time,_ Severus thought. But he would never say that to Harry, of course. "Why do you ask?" he asked, clearing his parched throat.

Potter looked up just as he finished his twentieth full turn of stirring the potion. "Well, in order for me to defeat Voldemort, I'm going to need to know what I'm up against," Harry said as he added mooncalf jelly to the cauldron.

Severus sprinkled in its powdered shell in unison with Harry until they used up the ingredient. Then the older man moved away from the cauldron. They were nearly finished. They only had to wait until the potion was at room temperature for it to be safe to bottle up. "Nonsense, Potter, as it pains me to even  _think_ of what had transpired during the last few days of the past school year, I am very much aware of your... relationship with my godson. And I'd rather not hear of you pursuing--

"With due respect, sir, no matter what you'd rather I do, that is our business," Harry said, facing the professor.

"Very well then," Severus said in his usual monotonous, expressionless tenor. But he  _was_ surprised. Not for the younger boy's statement but of its uncharacteristic composed delivery. This is not the first time Severus had encountered such unfamiliar territory from Harry, but it still staggered him nonetheless. Not that he cared. Much. Severus grabbed an empty potion's bottle as he held Harry's gaze. "Malfoy will be called. The chances are likely that he will be completing his initiation at the next gathering."

"He will be asked to kill?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

"What do you really want to know, Potter? Beating around the bush is not how I'd like to spend my time."

"I... I had a dream."

"I don't want to hear it."

"It's prophetic. I think."

"Then all the more reason for me NOT to hear of it. I suggest you speak with Dumbledore on the matter." The older man turned away to reach for another bottle.

"Severus, I'd rather speak--"

"I'd rather you not." Severus did not miss the use of his given name, but he decided he would let it slide. "I know too much as it is. The risks--"

Harry stood up, meeting Severus' eyes. "Bullshit! Like Voldemort could get through your thick--"

"Don't test me, Potter," Severus said, his voice low. Harry's outburst was the kind of thing he was familiar with, but even this was on a different level entirely. Severus challenged the younger boy, his gaze unwavering.

Harry turned away, breaking eye contact, knowing that a yelling match would not gain him any favor with the professor. He tried to reign in his emotions until his breathing returned back to normal.

For the next several minutes neither man said a word.

"I think it's time," Harry said, peering into the cauldron.

"You think or you know?"

"I know."

Severus nodded once. He handed an empty labeled bottle to Harry. Once the bottle was filled and corked, he handed another.

He glanced at Harry and he found himself infuriated. And he didn't have a single clue as to why, which infuriated him even further.  _Bloody, Potter,_ he very nearly muttered. And then with an audible sigh: "What was your bloody dream?"

Harry bit back his smile and slowly turned to meet Severus' eyes again. "Erm, you see, well, it's like--

"Tell me in coherent sentences, Potter. I haven't the patience for your fatuous babble."

"Right. So, Malfoy, he was in this dream and he was holding a baby," Harry said in a rush and then for some reason he wasn't able to continue.

"Go on," Severus prodded when Harry fell silent. "Am I to guess the significance of—-"

"The baby looked like us. I think. I never had a clear image of the baby, but there was this this familiar feeling. And I felt anger. Malfoy's anger. I woke up as soon as I made the realization that the baby was mine. That is all I remember." Harry gauged Severus' face, but wasn't able to make out any kind of reaction. "I wanted to know, sir, are male pregnancies possible?"

"Anger, you say? Directed to you? The baby?" Severus asked, not answering Harry's question for the time being.

"No, towards someone or something I couldn't see."

Severus nodded. "When did you dream this?"

"The night we had to catch the rat in the Hufflepuff dorms."

"And you only come to me with this information now?"

"Well, I thought it impossible then. But now that... Not that we had--I don't know. I'm confused. It's still impossible!" And then in a whisper: "Is it possible, sir?"

"Potter, you should know by now, nothing is impossible."

"Has it happened before?"

Severus regarded the younger boy and then shook his head once. "There are no human instances that I am aware of. There are stories, yes, but they are only that. Stories. Fictional stories, born of wishful thinking."

Harry inwardly sighed and looked away. He realized he had been holding his breath. He didn't know what to think right then. A few days ago he knew without a doubt that it would be impossible to have a baby with Draco and believed that the dream was just a nightmare brought on by a bad dinner. A baby with Draco was impossible as they were both males. Two males don't make a baby. That fact he was certain of. And, also, they weren't even remotely in the kind of relationship for a baby to be worked into the equation. But after a recent and rather unexpected shift in their relationship, Harry was no longer so certain. After all, if he and Draco, once rivals, could break the odds and forge together, then what is considered impossible?

"Potter."

Harry turned to face the potion's master.

"It only has to happen once to make a male pregnancy possible."

Harry nodded, he realized right then that he had come to the same conclusion. Not that it would have made any difference. He was still shaken, and if he was aware of it, he would have known that his fingers had trembled.

"Place the bottles on the top shelf. We're done for the day. It's late, you won't be able to brew any further potions without it going to ruin."

Harry only nodded. He knew the professor was not going to say anymore on the subject.

"Tomorrow I will not be here. I will be in contact with Albus. You will ask him how we shall proceed with your training. You may go to your dormitory now." Harry nodded again and then made his way towards the door.

"Potter?"

Harry paused and looked over his shoulder.

"Grimmauld Place may be still an unpleasant dwelling at this point but with time and effort, even a person of lesser caliber than that of your own person can make something of it."

Harry scrunched up his eyebrows. "Was that... was that a compliment, sir?"

"No, I didn't intend to give you a compliment, Potter. Why add a drop to a cauldron full?"

"Because Professor, one drop too many or one drop not enough could render a potion useless. While a potion that contains the right amount of drops could give you fame, glory, or even save your life," Harry repeated the words Severus had once said in their first potion's lecture. A smile played at the corner of his lip when he saw Severus' astonished look that was gone too soon.

"You realize that by saying that you've managed to become an even bigger dunderhead?"

"I realize that, sir. But thanks." Harry smiled and left before he could hear another response.

ccc

Instead of going straight to his dormitory, Harry went up to the owlery. He didn't know why until he pulled out a scrap piece of parchment from his pocket.

Not ten minutes later, Hedwig was in flight.

ccc

That night Harry dreamt of a pregnant Severus wearing his Aunt Petunia's yellow frock, only it had the letter 'S' stitched on it, like a Weasley sweater. Also, Hermione was pouting because Blaise had eaten all the marmalade. And Draco had walked in arguing with Ginny and Pansy that a mauve sky just made more sense because it coordinated better with his eyes. Furthermore, he had two of them. Harry woke up screaming: "But I have to feed Henry!"

He plopped his head back into his pillow and waited for his breath to return back to normal. He closed his eyes again. "Rats can very well feed themselves," he muttered before he fell back to sleep.

The next time Harry woke, it was to the sound of Hedwig flying into the dormitory. He moved to untie the parchment. "Thanks Hedwig."

The snowy owl made a purring noise and then flew over to the desk where Harry normally kept a bit of food in a bowl.

Harry hastily got his glasses so that the loops on the parchment turned into Draco's neat, elaborate handwriting. "I knew it would look flowery." Harry grinned.

 _Potter,_

 _You surprise me. I didn't expect you would write me. It's rather thoughtful of you. However, delivering straight to the manor? Next time try to be a bit more discreet. At least use a standard owl. I'm sure even you can manage that._

 _As for your request, I suppose I could manage coming early. That was the question, am I correct? Your handwriting is as neat as the hair on your head, Potter._

 _DM_

 _P.S. Tell Henry I miss him._

Harry smiled to himself as he realized that Draco just agreed to meet and stay with him a full week before seventh year started. He licked his lips as he recalled their last kiss. He wished that he didn't have to wait to do that again.

As it were, he had other things to work out before meeting with Draco. He got out his quill and wrote another letter, but this time addressing it to Ron and Hermione.

Hedwig once again took flight after the parchment was secured in place. Harry then took whatever was left in the bowl of food he kept for Hedwig and pulled out a green, silk covered pillow from under his bed. Atop the pillow was Henry. Harry shook his head. "Misses you, does he? I'm the one who has been taking care of you. You know, rats should be able to find food for themselves," Harry muttered as he gave Draco's pet rat his food. **  
**  
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	10. Chapter 10

**scene iii**   
_Lesson #58: Question an Empty Room_

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 _Dearest Harry,_

 _I wish I had been with you when you talked with Professor Snape regarding male pregnancies. I've already been reading, and I found a number of fascinating passages I would have liked to ask about. Honestly, was what was written in your rather poor excuse of a letter all that he told you? Did he really say that 'nothing is impossible?' Oh, how I wish I had seen that!_

 _Anyway, before Ron loses his head, everything here is going on well. Ron's been practicing apparating, and I do think he's gotten the hang of it. Eyebrows intact and everything!_

 _As you asked, I've read up on more restoring spells for Grimmauld. However, I still think that the old fashioned way of cleaning by hand would work best. We'll just have to keep at it. I'll get more supplies when I return to my house._

 _Speaking of cleaning, do you really think it would be wise for Malfoy to be there? Did he really agree to cleaning? Actually, now that I think about it, I really would like to see that._

 _Even more so, I wish to be able to see you on your birthday, but I guess it is your birthday and you are free to do what you want. I'll write you before then. Take care, Harry._

 _Love,_   
_Hermione_

 _P.S. As you asked, I waited a few days to send my reply so Hedwig can rest. Write back soon and tell us what kind of training the Headmaster had in mind for you._

Harry folded the letter and placed it in his jeans' pocket before he stepped outside of the castle's walls. A cool breeze immediately clung to his sweat soaked skin, chilling his bones.

Dumbledore had him training all day and not of the magic kind. Dumbledore had wanted to make sure that Harry would not only be prepared magically and mentally, but physically prepared as well. So throughout the day he had been alternating from doing sets of push-ups and sit-ups and jogging rounds.

When the sun had gone down, he checked back with Dumbledore if he heard of anything from Snape yet (he didn't). But just as he left his office, Hedwig had arrived with Hermione's letter.

Harry jogged one final lap around the castle before he collapsed onto the grassy grounds from exhaustion. He felt the world closing in as he looked out into the starlit night.

He wondered if Dumbledore really thought that physical training would help him during the war, or if he just wanted to see what he could make him do. In any case, the truth was, he _would_ do anything for the Headmaster. Even if the wizard was no longer among the living, his essence was still very much alive.

Harry wasn't wearing his glasses. He had temporarily fixed his vision earlier that day so he wouldn't have to run with his glasses bouncing on his nose or fogging up. He closed his eyes and opened them again some minutes later and thought it felt odd that the world looked so clear.

Harry breathed the cool, crisp night air in. And before long, he had fallen asleep.

 _Potter? Harry? Wake up, it was just a dream. Only a dream. You have to wake up now_

Harry woke up to the image of Draco. He was smiling and holding something that he couldn't quite place.

He tried to close his eyes again to try and get back to his dream but then he sat up with a start, realizing that he was lying down in damp grass. It took him another moment to realize that he was outside in the middle of the night. And that he was sore from the day's work-out.

He slowly made his way to his dormitory and tried to get back to sleep once he made it to his bed, but it was useless.

He threw off his covers and decided that he might as well do something. Two minutes later, he found himself in the Prefect's bathroom.

He decided that he wasn't in the mood for a bath, so he made his way to the shower. While taking off his pajama bottoms and boxers he realized that he had the bathroom to himself. And right then, he had all the time in the world to do whatever he wanted.

He almost grinned to himself as his body reacted to the idea of the possibilities. It seemed at that point his body had decided just what it wanted to do with the world's time.

He turned on the water and adjusted the temperature to borderline scorching. Sighing at the prickles that trickled down his back at the touch of the first drops of liquid fire, he gripped the faucet handle until his sore body adjusted to the heat and relaxed under the steady pressure.

He closed his eyes and it didn't take long before an image of a very wet Draco Malfoy played in his mind.

He had only seen Draco naked once before. And even then, it was only for a second, three at most. They were in their third year. And Harry had hardly thought of Draco as wanking material then. He was too busy thinking if he could selectively obliterate his memory.

Draco, Harry could admit now, even at the age of thirteen was a sight to behold. Draco wasn't at all awkward like he, himself, was at that age.

Draco was confident in his skin and it showed. Slender and tall, and every inch of him covered with perfect, ivory, smooth skin. Draco was, in a word: ravishing.

Harry licked his lips when the image of a thirteen year old, scowling Malfoy, transformed with the help of his imagination into a mature, grinning Draco. This Draco was taller, leaner and still covered with ivory smooth skin that begged to be touched. This Draco was sexier than hell.

Harry couldn't wait any longer, his hand drifted from his neck to his hitching chest, down his tense abdomen and further down until he gripped his aching member. He hissed as soon as his skin made contact. He began a slow rhythm, going up and down his slick shaft. When he twisted his wrist slightly as he moved up his entire length he bit his lip, eliciting a moan. His other hand had made its way down to encircle a heavy sac. Another noise escaped. He groaned in pleasure as he quickened his pace.

He nearly lost himself in the images that were being conjured in his head. Draco was no longer just a picture in his mind. He was real. And he was watching him with the most delicious look in his gray eyes.

Harry braced the tile again, holding himself up as he leaned into the wall.

Draco was talking now. The words didn't make sense, but the sounds spurred him on. And then Draco was moving, walking, inching closer to him. His hands were coming up as if to touch him. And if someone were to ask, Harry could have swore right then that Draco actually did.

And that phantom touch is what set Harry off. A wonderful explosion of pent up energy and pleasure wracked throughout his body, followed by waves of tingling sparks under his skin. "Fuck…"

Harry waited until he caught his breath before he turned off the tap. He ran his fingers through his overgrown hair to push it away from his eyes and then warily, he opened them.

And that's when he felt it. He felt the distinct feeling of being watched. He turned to look around the bathroom. He mentally cast a vision correcting spell. As his eyes adjusted, he took in every corner of the dimly lit room.

Empty.

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	11. Chapter 11

**scene iv**   
_Lose Me Here_

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"I will NOT allow it! She'll kill him! And-- _AND_  I'll die. I will!"

"Bloody fool, keep your voice down. I will not have you give us away by your unnecessary want for dramatics." Severus leveled his gaze with Draco's. "You will not die. Potter will not die. Believe me, I'd die before either of you. And when that happens, I will permit--encourage even, to bloody well scream your head off all you like but not a second before. I don't have the ears for it."

Draco continued as if he did not just hear the elder man. "I'm not going to just  _let_  some worthless Death-Eater scum touch-- _TOUCH_  Harry. No! I won't have it. There's got to be another--"

"It's not your decision to make, Draco. If you are to be initiated, you must not challenge the Dark Lord. Not now. Do as you are told, nothing more." For a second, Severus was able to hold Draco's gaze. "There's no point in going to Hogwarts to stop her or even to warn Potter."

At Draco's wide eyed look, Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Draco, Potter has grown quite adept to occulumency. And he has fought with her before--"

"If that's supposed to comfort me--"

"No, it would not. However, if in the event that were to happen, Potter's known to have--

"That's ridiculous! You can't base your certainty on someone--an outcome even, on what has been  _known_  to happen. You just CAN'T  _do_ that!"

"Don't tell me what I can't do, Draco. You are getting ahead of yourself, and you wouldn't want to get lost at the starting line. Keep in mind of what the specific orders were." Severus lowered his voice, making his words sound stronger, more urgent. "You are getting worked up over nothing."

"Nothing? NOTHING? My dear, Aunt Bella is making her way to Hogwarts, if she's not already there, and she's gonna… gonna get into his mind. It'll break him!"

Severus was ready to turn in the younger man himself for all the noise he was making. Surely that would be better than both of them getting caught. But then a fleeting image of an aged man in purple robes, which was obscured by a white long beard, winked and disappeared before him in a flash of glittering light. Severus rubbed his temple and released an audible sigh. "I should say, you talk as if you love the boy." When Draco opened his mouth, Severus glared at him. "No, I will not stand for another interruption.

"You talk of him dying, and in turn, dying yourself. The very idea of courtly love! Sickening as it is, tell me, Draco, is it not love to have faith?" Severus did not wait for an answer. He wasn't asking. "Potter is perfectly capable, Dumbledore insists on it." Severus said this as if the statement was sound. "And what I have attempted to get passed your blind, ignorant thoughts is the very certain fact that Bellatrix's only order is to find out what Potter so desires. Nothing more. The Dark Lord will not allow her to harm his most precious. Potter is much too important to his plan, even if it has not been revealed to us, that much is certain."

Severus eyed the blond, wondering if he got though to him. "Have faith, Draco." On that word,  _faith,_  Severus wasn't exactly sure what he was asking of Draco. Did he intend for Draco to place faith on their side? Or to have faith in a marked boy, who was two weeks shy of his seventeenth year and who still has no idea of what kind of power he's capable of? Before Severus could make up his mind, words were already pouring forth. "He'll need for you to be in the Dark Lord's circle. And for that to happen, you must do your part. No more. No less. Understand?"

Several seconds passed before Draco nodded.

"Good. Now, return home. Say goodnight to your mother. Sleep, you will be needing it. I need not remind you--as I'm sure you know--the Dark Lord's meetings are dreadfully long, but tomorrow night will be the first you'll be actively participating in. You'll find yourself without energy. Prepare yourself. Eat, it wouldn't do to faint." Severus paused, thinking Draco would interrupt, but he didn't say a word. "I'll alert you if anything… disastrous were to happen."

"Yes, sir."

"Severus." The older man corrected.

"What?" Draco asked, clearly confused.

"You must learn to call me Severus. Even your father is Lucius to you now. You must think as if the only person that is above you is the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord's biddings are the only words that matter. It means life to you."

Draco nodded. And then he disapparated from Severus' sight.

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Draco apparated just behind Malfoy Manor's gates, words of faith and love had resounded in his ears until the sight before him ceased his thoughts.

The red, dropping sun behind him burned everything into a yellow-orange tinge. Draco had seen the Manor from his very spot in all four seasons, in all types of weather and in every cast of light imaginable. In fact, he distinctly remembered seeing the manor in the exact same shade just last year.

He had been returning home to his mother after his fifth year of Hogwarts and he walked through the gates, realizing that at sixteen, he was expected, when in leave of his father, to be the Lord of the Manor. When he had reached the Manor's doors he had vomited, bringing up whatever was left of his last meal at Hogwarts, ruining the side of his mother's front garden. Then he tripped on the threshold's first step. He had scraped his knee on the stone pavement, which were painted copper by the sun.

Funny, he thought, that the Manor would again be dressed in the same colors a year later, but for an entirely different occasion. The day was marked. Even the ever-present scent of grass and oranges seemed more significant. He closed his eyes, wishing for the colors, shapes and scents to fade away. But it was too late. He could not take the moment back, it existed. A memory now, freshly burned into his mind, settled. Ingrained. And nothing in the future would allow him to forget.

Draco had studied his home at every angle, knew it took 438 steps to get to the Manor from its first gates, knew it took him 3.6 seconds to fly from one end of the Manor to the other with his Nimbus 2001, he knew that the Manor was what kept him and his family housed for generations upon generations. Malfoy Manor was his home.

Draco fingered the smooth iron gate. As aged as it was, it wasn't marred by rust, one of the Manor's many rare charms. It never bothered Draco before but as he touched the cold length of one of the gate's bars, all he could think of was how fake it all seemed. He found himself holding his wand and a spell at his lips:  _"Antiquus"_.

The smooth, glistening black bars, once washed in a warm yellow glow by the sunlight, slowly aged into a sickly red, tinged with green and spouted roughened spots of decay.

Draco walked the four-hundred and thirty-eight steps till he arrived just in front of the Manor's doors as he did countless times in the past, but never before like this. He was arriving as if he were a guest in a place he's lived in for seventeen years.

At night, Death Eaters--other Death eaters--and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would be welcomed. And thus turning Malfoy Manor into a place he could no longer call his home.

Draco pulled open the heavy doors and walked straight from the expansive entry, through the decorative hall, up the elaborate staircase and into the fourth room on the right.

The room's high windows let in enough light so candles were not yet necessary. The walls were a light honey colored shade, with mahogany trimmings to match the frame of the four-poster bed, side tables, dressers, chairs and the study. The curtains and bedding were of a soft pale green.

Draco, at age seven, had charmed the room to change color with the weather. Now, he no longer found it fitting. He took his wand out and charmed the colors of the room to match with his mood.

And instantly the room was painted black. Draco whispered a quick  _"Lumos."_  Several candles lit the blood red room as Draco made his way into the bath.

He emerged an hour and eight minutes later. Sixty-three minutes were spent on watching his reflection alone. He walked out of the room he had once called his, wearing formal black dress robes. His hair was slicked back. And His face was a mask of stony indifference as he made his way down and onto the foyer.

His only thought when the house' guests acknowledged his descent was how the living area looked so much like death.

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Dinner was tasteless both in food and in company. And it seemed to take up a ridiculous amount of Draco's time. When the dessert plates cleared from the table, Draco thought that he had reached his great senior age of eighty.

When the Dark Lord had risen from his seat, however, time seemed to move much too fast. His stomach rolled at the movement. For a fleeting second he thought time was moving so quickly that he may have went back in time. Surely, that would explain why he felt like an eight year old trying to catch up and match his father's footsteps. An image of his boy self came to mind, when he had been following his father in the snow and had been stepping in large tracks that he had thought he'd never be able to fill.

Draco was so caught up in the memory that he almost missed his name being called. He glanced at the head of the table, expecting to see his father. But what he saw there made him want to bring up the very little food he was able to take-in moments earlier. Draco quickly cleared his throat and emptied his mind. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Draco, so nice of you to have joined us. Your Aunt Bella was just about to tell us a story. Perhaps it would be of interest to you?"

Draco had felt his throat tighten at the mention of Bellatrix. He wanted desperately to seek out Severus to see if his expression would give away any 'disastrous' news, but that would be the end of him. The end to them both. Draco averted his eyes with a dip of his head. "Yes, Master."

"Very well, Bellatrix, continue. Tell me good news. Tell us all what makes Harry Potter tick. Listen carefully, as this will be what will destroy the very Boy Who Lived."

Whispers among the Death Eaters erupted around the table. Draco chanced a look at the Dark Lord. A slit in a too stretched face formed a manic smile.

Draco looked down and waited for the words that would surely bring the death of him.

 _Faith…_

Draco looked up. He did not seek out Severus, of whom he was certain had voiced the word. His eyes had darted from face to face, wondering if anyone else made out the single word; the puff of air that graced the outer shell of his ear. It wasn't even audible enough to be called a whisper, but Draco was certain he heard correctly.  _Faith_. Draco turned his head and his gaze fell on the Dark Lord just as he began to speak again.

"Bellatrix, you have the floor." Voldemort's words cut through the air, his impatience clearly evident.

"Oh Master, please, I--"

"Bellatrix, I do NOT find it pleasing that your story is starting with an air of failure. Begin. Again."

"I did as you said, my Lord. I went to Hogwarts. I sought and found Harry Potter, but--

Draco sat still, his face devoid of all the happiness that he felt as he heard the apparent plea in the all-telling contrary conjunctive, delivered in Bellatrix's shaken voice.  _She had failed._

"But?" The Dark Lord's voice was cold. A shiver ran up Draco's spine.

"I did see, my Lord," Bellatrix said quickly. Draco suddenly felt the room go hot. "My Lord, Potter was in a state--I saw... I saw of a boy. Blond--"

A mad chuckle erupted; cutting off his Aunt's already mired words.

"You dare appear before me, Bellatrix, with meaningless words? A name. I wanted a name--

"I--"

The one syllable spoke of her end. She was not silent when her Lord was speaking. And she belatedly realized what the cross of words meant. A look of horror washed over her face as she fell to the ground, her arms splayed out, her nose pressed to the floor as she begged for forgiveness at the Dark Lord's feet.

Draco very nearly cackled with glee. Should he have been this giddy? Wasn't she blood, if not dear to him? Draco licked his lips, other than that unconscious movement, nothing else was evident.

However, that all changed at the sound of a young man's voice, a voice Draco had always hated. it wasn't because of the cringe inducing nasal sound that caused him to want to rip off his ears. No, it was because the voice belonged to Zacharias Smith.

"My Lord, if I may, I have information that Bellatrix wasn't able to provide."

Draco's eyes narrowed.

"Smith? Is it?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Since when has Zacharias, Hufflepuff's chaser, ever been part of the Dark Lord's circle? Draco couldn't believe what he was seeing. Why didn't he notice? Had he overlooked the Hufflepuff? Draco chanced a look at Severus. Clearly he was as surprised as he was at the new guest. Severus' eyes were locked on Zacharias Smith, watching his every move and surely committing to memory every word that had been uttered.

Draco faintly heard Voldemort in the background. He knew he should be more alert of what was going on, but the buzz in his mind was much too loud to make anything out. He did, however, hear Zacharias' thick reply.

"Harry Potter desires Draco Malfoy, of that I'm certain. I've seen them together myself."

The words were sharp, direct, and sliced clear through Draco's heart.

 _Buzzzzzzzz_

"Potter's birthday is in two weeks. He wishes to spend it with Malfoy and has arranged for a meeting.

Draco despised the voice and its owner, and yet he found himself trying as hard as ever to listen to him speak. Even if it was killing him, crushing him, and pinning him helpless to the ground. And there was nothing he could do to stop his own murder scene. Draco closed his eyes. He tasted the blood, felt the ear piercing screams, heard bones break. Draco gasped as he saw that the one lying on the floor was not his own body, but Harry's.  _No!_  He forced his mind to work out what was real, like sorting books in his library. Fiction. Non-fiction.

It was only when he was finally able to decipher the buzzes and turn them into words leaked by his world's devil did he realize it was his own life at stake. Not Harry's. Not yet, anyway.

"Take him away," Voldemort commanded.

A death sentence. Just three simple words strung together to form an imperative. What happened to colorful words like torment, pain and regret that had invaded his mind when he saw Harry lying broken on the floor moments earlier?  _Take him away._ The words echoed.

 _Take_. He felt callous hands grip his arms. His robes were tangled around his body as he tried to move. His arms were numb. His feet felt like lead. He was immobile. He was taken.

 _Him_. He didn't feel the punches and the kicks, the swings and the blows. He saw the blood that trailed as he was being dragged on the floor. But it couldn't have been his, Draco had thought. He remembered how easily it was to conjure the image of a death not of his own and feel pain that was experienced in another's body. The words though, the words that he heard in the background all screamed his name: fairy, idiot, spy, blood traitor, fool… He was all of those words. He was Draco Malfoy.

 _Away_. Draco knew exactly where he was. The dungeons beneath Malfoy Manor. He was never allowed in the dungeons. His parents forbade it. But at the age of three, he went anyway. In total, he had visited the Dungeouns on three different occasions.

The first time he went into the dungeons was because of his father. He had told him he wasn't old enough. And his mother had told him that the place was dirty and smelly, and he was much too dear to her to see and smell such lowly things. It had been the first time Draco had heard the word, 'no.' He didn't understand what the words meant. When he yelled, screamed and cried for help when he got lost in the dark, he learned the use of the negative word, at least when it came from his parents' lips.

The second time he ventured into the dungeons, it had been because Blaise had dared him. He had felt like he was old enough and was not the fragile boy his mother made him out to be. He wasn't about to show his best friend that he was scared of stone walls, cold metal and stationary gates. He had walked down into the dungeons with his eyes closed, imagining his mother's gardens, and counted the allotted hundred and twenty seconds. He came out with his head held high and a smirk at his lips.

The third time he went, he had brought a girl. He had spent two days prior planning the event with one thing on his mind: Boys should want to do things with girls. Why shouldn't he? He heard other boys his age tell triumphant stories of getting a chance to feel up girls. Many of those stories involved tricking girls into scary places so that they'd grab hold of you for protection. Draco had brought Pansy. she had giggled as the doors closed behind them. He had felt her arms wrap around his neck. Her chest had collided with his and he had felt her breath on his cheek. Draco had pushed her away, opened the doors and left her behind.

He never considered the dungeons as part of his home. It was the only place in Malfoy Manor that he ever ran away from. But he found himself pressed against the jagged stone walls, chained in heavy metal that cut his wrists and enclosed by iron gates. He was lost in his own home.

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	12. Chapter 12

**scene v**   
_Break-in to Break Free_

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"Draco, how in Merlin's name could you have botched up so royally without even saying a word? Oh right, it's because you  _didn't_  say a bloody word!" Severus called out, knowing Draco could hear him from his own cell.

Severus was met with silence.

"Draco? Draco, answer me this instant or--"

"We've been over this… Not that it matters… Nothing matters anymore…" Draco said slowly, monotonously.

"Inconceivable. Locked up, after all--Dumbledore believed--Never did I--And here I am--Bloody defenseless with a boy that has a maddening flare for dramatics but can't bloody act to save his life!"

"No matter what I would have said, there would have been no out! I've been found out. Harry's been found out.  _We've_  been found out--"

"You could have denied it all. Lie! Surely, you had enough practice lying to yourself for six odd years about your feelings for Potter. Couldn't you have summoned a little of that denial when you actually needed it in front of the Dark Lord?"

"It wouldn't have made a difference, Smith--"

"Smith is a nobody. He had nothing on you. That is, until you admitted it all with your bloody heart on your sleeve. And you even dared to look at me--your face, dripping with emotion? Do I mean nothing at all--Never mind. When we get out of here--"

"You think we'll get out?" Draco asked, wondering for the first time since being dragged into the cell.

"You believe Potter will let you rot here?"

"You seem to think so highly of Harry. Are you--"

"Bite your tongue, Draco, and if it's already bloody, bite harder."

Silence.

"How will he even know?"

"Because, Draco, while you were letting the Death eaters have their way with you, I contacted--"

Draco strained to hear, but Severus' words were definitely cut short. Chains rattled. And then silence. "Severus? Severus! What happened? Are you--"

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[the other side]

It was around that time of the morning when the dark night's veil was just beginning to lift, when shadows were forced to reveal their secret identities, when the crisp cold air was louder than slumbering creatures. It was at that time of the morning when Harry broke through the last of the Manor's wards and dealt with the three Death Eaters on watch.

He would have sighed in relief after coming so far, but the hardest part had not come yet. The hardest part, he knew, was when he would find Draco.

Five weeks and four days had passed since he last seen Draco. The past two of those days were spent in agony when he had learned that Draco had been imprisoned. And he wasn't allowed to do a thing about it. Utter agony.

Here, now, Harry summed up that it would only take mere minutes to find Draco, and that is what he was dreading now. It was not the idea of searching, of not knowing if there were any dangers that lurked at every hall, behind every door, in every corner that he passed. It was the idea of seeing Draco that scared him. What state would he be in? Would he be in his right mind? Would he be covered in blood? Harry wasn't sure of any of these things. His only saving grace was the feeling of knowing he was still alive.

Harry had never set foot in Malfoy Manor before, but he knew exactly where to go. It may have been a stroke of luck that he decided to turn left, the direction he needed to take. He could have been following his intuition when he entered the hall, which would lead him to the stairs that would take him down to the dungeons. No matter, Harry was able to find what he was looking for.

The heavily bolted doors swung open and Harry cautiously stepped inside damp territory. He squinted through the dark, letting his eyes adjust before moving forward. Torches were lit but only helped in separating each cell. All else was hidden in the darkness. A simple _Lumos,_  would have helped, but he could not risk being found out, even if the only three known Death Eaters at the site were as blind as bats, lying unconscious on the living room floor, two stories above him.

Harry began making his way into the heart of the dungeons. He counted his silent footsteps as he turned a corner and listened for any sound to give way. He thought he had heard talking that sounded more like a faint buzzing.

Harry wished to call out Draco's name, but he was worried that there might be guards on watch. And even more scared of the thought that he might not get a reply.

Harry walked forward, he kept his back to the wall, his eyes trained on every cell that he passed, his breath was even, soundless and his wand was at the ready.

But then in the next moment he found himself greatly unprepared as he heard the last syllables to a spell being uttered from another wizard's strained lips:

 _…tatem._

Harry saw darkened eyes grow darker as he fought to regain his composure. And then he heard himself think of spells to override darker magic.

Chains clamored against cold stone. A figure moved.

Harry was entranced.

A gaze shifted.

Harry remembered himself. He broke into a run, his eyes darted from cell to cell. Nothing. And then:

"Severus? Severus! What happened?" said a voice that Harry longed to hear. "Are you--

Harry quickly turned another corner and found him. Somehow, through the darkness, green eyes met grey.

Harry smiled. "Your knight in shining armor? Why yes, I am."

 **END of ACT II**


	13. Chapter 13

**ACT III  
scene i**   
_Lesson #2: If at First You Don't Succeed... Think of Something Else_

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"Knight in shining armor, are you?"

Harry heard the voice from behind. Severus Snape had caught up with him.

"Where's your armor then? Do not tell me that you came here by yourself? You have, haven't you?" Severus questioned.

Harry didn't reply right then. He focused on the figure before him, Draco. Just Draco. Chained Draco. He felt for metal and quickly muttered a few incantations and then did them all over again when they didn't work. On Harry's fourth try, Draco wasn't any less imprisoned. Frustrated, Harry shouted, " _Incendio!_ " The torches along the walls outside the cells instantly lit, settling everything in a yellow glow. Harry looked over his shoulder just as Severus stepped forward.

Harry mistook the look of disgust on Severus' face to being ignored. "Would you rather I imprison you again and come back with..." Harry trailed off as he noticed that the look wasn't directed at him at all. He followed the elder man's gaze.

 _Oh, Gods..._ Harry swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "Draco..."

Draco was secured with chains, shackled at his wrists and ankles much the same way as Severus, but with Draco's state it was obvious who the real prisoner was. Draco dangled in his prison. It looked as if he were about to kneel, but was prevented from doing so by his constraints. His usual prim and pristine appearance was lost underneath caked dirt, smears of gritty black covered pale skin. His left eye was swollen shut. His sleeves that were once a crisp white were now a muddy brown, stained with congealed blood that had dripped from his metal bitten wrists. Draco's elegant fine lines were set in awkward broken angles. His robes were ripped, revealing contusions, scorched marks and even more blood. So much blood. Too much blood. It was on the floor. It was on the walls. It was everywhere and anywhere. It was all in the wrong places.  _How could blood leave a body so perfect?_

"Snape, some help here." Harry was already at Draco's side, trying to hold him up so that his wrists no longer had to carry dead weight.

Harry barely registered Severus at Draco's other side.

"Why wont the fucking spells work!"

"Clear your mind, Potter. You have to clear your mind!"

Harry glared at the older man. "I've tried! Merlin..."

"Well, try--"

"If you tell me to try harder I WILL lock you back up, don't think I won't."

"Potter, don't pretend to think that you are in control. Your whining is of no help to Draco--"

"You're no help! Don't you know what spells--"

"If I did, I would have used them already."

"If Draco--"

"Don't talk as if I'm not here. Bloody--just--just get me the fuck out of this soddin' dungeon! When I'm good and healed then you can argue all you want." Just as soon as Draco shouted, the room fell in thick silence.

"I-" Harry started to say.

"And don't you say you're sorry," Draco whispered, and then in a stronger voice: "Or I swear I'll lock you both up when I'm out of these fucking chains."

Harry nodded. And then glared at Severus when he heard him mutter under his breath: "Wasn't about to apologize."

Harry opened his mouth with a biting comment on his tongue but quickly shut it when he felt the weight at his side shift.

Draco. Chains. Blood.

With renewed vigor, he tried the spells again. Still, the magic did not work. "I think spells won't cut it. There's some kind of magical seal on the chains. Do you know where I could find the keys?"

Draco shook his head.

Harry nodded. "Severus, take hold of him." He then started patting down his trousers and emptying his pockets. Coins, a chocolate frog, a stick from a lollipop fell to the floor.

"What, may I ask, are you doing, Potter?" Severus asked.

"Well, if magic is useless then we have to make do with what we have. And what we have is this," Harry said as he held up a green and red paperclip.

Severus had a questioning look about him, but he did not say anything further as Harry started bending the piece of malleable metal with his fingers.

Harry knelt at Draco's feet and inserted the makeshift key in one of the cuffs. "It needs to be harder." As Harry said this, he felt the thin metal grow heavier, more substantial. He moved the transfigured paperclip around, feeling the lock and its ridges. And then he heard it, a distinctive click that no man could possibly hear, but Harry heard it in the way his stomach clenched at the thought of the lock unlocking. He held his breath as he gave the metal another twist. The give was undeniable as the cuff that held Draco's ankle fell open in Harry's hand. Not comprehending for a moment what he had just done, he stared at the shackle for a moment until he felt the weight of heavy eyes on him. He didn';t look up as he took hold of the second cuff that held Draco's other foot.

Harry wasn't sure if the other two occupants in the cell said a word. He moved robotically, repetitively with each cuff until Draco was free from his bounds. Harry held one of Draco's arms over his shoulder as the blonde was lowered gently to the floor.

"Healing isn't my forte." Harry looked over at Severus, who shook his head.

"No time," Severus whispered as his eyes roamed the blood spattered walls. "We must get out of here--Apparition, Draco, even side-along, won't be an option in your state." Severus turned to Harry. "Who is aware that you're here, Potter?"

"Well--"

"Nobody knows, then. Guards, how many did you come across?"

"Three, none of whom I could recognize."

Severus nodded. "A surprise will be waiting--"

"Oh, but this surprise is rather impatient," said a disembodied voice.

By reflex, Harry shouted: " _Protego!_ " The spell wrapped all three of them in a shield just as the wall turned black. A split second later a hooded Death Eater appeared.  _"Stupefy!"_ Harry's voice echoed through the halls of the dungeon.

The torches blew out.

Harry's last thought was where was his wand?

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	14. Chapter 14

**scene ii**   
_Pseudo Touches and Honest Words_

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"Did you even think of what you could have done, Potter?"

"No, not really. I was more aware of the fact that we were all about to get killed!"

"There was one Death Eater--"

"We didn't know that for certain! There could have been more where he came from. And besides, I don't know why you're angry. We made it out alive, didn't we? And Draco's going to be okay. Pomfrey said so."

"That's not the point. You can't always act so rashly and expect for everything to go your way, Potter. You could have killed Draco with your hasty three-way apparition."

"But it didn't! And don't tell me what I can't do."

"But you could have! And I very well can. Albus said so." Severus mimicked Harry.

"Well, If I didn't, we could  _all_ have been killed."

"There were other ways to get out alive, ways that don't include acting on your impulsive behavior."

"Oh, my apologies, sir. Next time I'll be sure to ask the friendly Death Eater to stop his attack so I can think of a safer way for us to escape. I'm sure that would have gone smoothly. Perhaps he could have shown us the door."

"Yes, glad that you are finally beginning to understand what I've been trying to teach you all along."

"Sir, you've gone round the bend, haven't you?"

"If I'm at all bent, Potter, you are the cause of it."

"Well, I should say... that is quite a statement, Severus." Headmistress McGonagall came to stand behind the two male occupants of the room.

"Professor..." Harry turned around to acknowledge his Transfigurations teacher.

Severus had only bothered to tilt his head in acknowledgment.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy is awake now. Madam Pomfrey insists that if you want to visit him, now is the time to do it."

Without another word Harry nodded and left the room.

Severus tilted his head again, seemingly to excuse himself, but Minerva was having none of it.

"Severus, I heard everything."

"If that were the case, Minerva, I don't doubt that you did."

"Is there anything you'd like to say for yourself?"

"No. My person has nothing to say."

"Severus--"

"Minerva, I know. I am not a teenager that needs to be reprimanded."

"Then don't act like the teenager that wants to be reprimanded."

ccc

"Hey." Harry peeked through the doorway of one of the many rooms of Grimmauld.

"Hey," Draco answered as he shifted his head on his pillow.

"All right?" Harry came to stand by Draco and realized that it had been weeks since they last had an opportunity to be alone. What now? So much had happened since that kiss on Hogwarts Express' platform.

"All right," Draco replied. He met Harry's eyes and looked just as confused as Harry felt.

"The truth now?" Harry arched a brow at Draco and then pulled a high backed chair closer to Draco's bedside.

"The truth hurts, Potter."

Harry smirked. "I bet it does. You look awful."

"Ah, thank you ever so. What a charmer, you are," Draco said, sarcastically. But Harry could tell that his heart wasn't in it.

"Hey, you're the one who translates my words wrong in your head, Malfoy."

"That doesn't even make sense." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Exactly!"

Draco laughed, "Actually, maybe it could make sense."

"You agree with me then?" Harry said as the whole conversation grew a lot less awkward at the sound of Draco's laugh.

"I'm told that I have a grade of a concussion. Bask while you can, Potter." Draco smiled, and then gave Harry a look. "Come here."

For some reason he felt rooted to the chair. The situation became awkward again.  _What's this?_  he asked himself. Not that he didn't understand what Draco meant by his order or that his body wasn't physically capable. Something- _something_ just stopped him from getting closer. But he desperately wanted to. He wanted to be at Draco's side more than anything.

Harry observed Draco. He was dressed in a pair of his own--or actually, Dudley's old sweatpants and an even older t-shirt. Bandages seemed to cover the rest of his skin. He laid heavily in a squashy bed with sheets that seemed much too stiff and rough to be of any comfort to the likes of Draco Malfoy.

Harry's eyes shifted again to meet a pair of grey eyes. Harry had memorized those eyes, knew that they grew darker when he was angry, and lighter when he was amused. His eyes were the first feature of Draco's that really struck Harry when they first met. They were so young then. And all those years ago, Draco's eyes didn't seem to hold pain as they do now. "Why's that,  _Draco_?" He heard himself ask.

"Do I need a reason?"

"No," Harry said simply, knowing that they were not referring to the same thing. Harry stood up, but rather than doing what Draco asked of him earlier, he started pacing. Back and forth. Back. And. Forth. He rubbed his neck and pushed his fingers through his hair as he sighed. He looked at Draco again when he felt the weight of his gaze upon him.

He didn't know what to do, or what to say. And he wasn't sure if doing or saying anything would be the right thing to do. Did it matter? Harry felt like the kiss that they shared just a few weeks ago was now in a different lifetime. Could he go back to that life? With Draco?

"Potter, come here," Draco said calmly, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

Harry was standing beside the door when he had halted at Draco's words. "Why's that,  _Draco_?" he asked again. Was he pleading? He couldn't ask what really was on his mind. Why is it that he can't bring himself to get closer? What's stopping him?

"Because you want to," Draco stated. "Right?"

"There are things, Malfoy..." Harry said slowly, he regarded Draco across the room. The want to touch Draco surged through him again, but still, something kept him from doing so.

"I know those things, Harry." Draco patted the spot beside him as he kept Harry's gaze. "Those things don't matter.  _If_ they mattered..." Draco lowered his eyes for a moment. "I fail--"

"Shut up!" Harry exclaimed. He was no longer leaning on the door.

Draco sniffed the air as he looked up to meet Harry's eyes again, as if he could smell the magic that caused the room to rumble for a moment. "It's the truth, Harry. Even you can't bend it. If I didn't fail you, I failed Dumbledore. I failed Severus. I failed before I could even start."

Harry found himself at Draco's side. He leaned over so that they were eye level. "Shut the fuck up, Malfoy," he whispered.

"Make me," Draco whispered back.

Harry was left to do the only logical thing he could think of. He kissed him.

He kissed him slowly, tentatively. And when he pulled back, he dragged his tongue on the bottom of Draco's upper lip. Harry actually felt him smile at the light touch. "You planned that."

"Of course, what else can you expect from a Slytherin?"

Harry arched his brow. "Hmm, I don't know, thought they'd make good covert spies." A second later he dodged a pillow that flew his way. For a moment he looked at the pillow as a sense of deja vu washed over him. He bit his lip and looked up, almost missing the sound, Draco was laughing.

"There are one too many fucking impostors out there," Harry whispered, the easy set of his features faded, and were replaced with hard lines and angles.

Draco sat straighter in bed, mindful of his injured leg. "How did you find me? They sent Smith in my place, that's what I heard."

"They sent him to me," Harry confirmed. "He was polyjuiced to look like you. The juice did its job... not that it did any good. I saw through the disguise the moment I saw him. He couldn't act like you, the way he moved was all wrong. He couldn't talk like you, not enough bite, too soft, and not a whine to speak of. If that wasn't enough, he didn't even feel like you."

"First of all, I do not whine. I express my discontent when the occasion arises. And it just so happens that when you are present I'm easily... discontented."

"Wha--"

"Second of all," Draco continued as if he did not just hear Harry. "'Feel'? What do you mean, feel? You already said he didn't speak like me, surely you would have heard him talk before he got a chance to touch--wait, how far--"

"Malfoy, before your thoughts lead you on, let me explain."

A second passed in silence.

"Well, I'm waiting. Explain. Tell me that you didn't touch him wearing my skin and--Merlin, you did, didn't you?"

"Fuck, Draco, you're so..."

"So what?"

"I don't know."

"Good answer."

"Glad you think so." Harry sat back down in his chair. He was irritated and it wasn't exactly with Draco.

Another moment passed.

"I know what you're thinking."

"Do you? Enlighten me as I sure as hell don't know what the fuck is on my mind." Harry looked up and realized that he wasn't being sarcastic at all.

Draco tilted his head. "You miss what we used to be. We don't even fight the way we used to." Draco paused as he tried to put his thoughts into words. He bit down on his lip and he could have sworn that he still had the taste of Harry in his mouth. "Maybe you don't miss us being at each other's throats... I take that part back," Draco trailed off, he bit down again on his lip, but this time to stop his grin from appearing but there was nothing for it, Harry noticed anyway.

Harry didn't return the grin, but the corners of his eyes crinkled.

Draco continued: "What I mean to say is that you feel like you want to go back to that time when everything was simpler than this. You hate me. I hate you. Good. Bad. Black. White. Clear cut lines and the world a much better place to live in because of our view of it. At least it was, back when we were kids. We didn't know any better.

"There's no denying we grew up differently. From what I've heard, the way you grew up is not how I knew it to be. But that's something else entirely, isn't it? Doesn't matter, does it?" Draco inquired, not really expecting an answer yet.

"All that aside, we're both still kids and forced into a world where there are no lines, making it so much harder to live. I can see it in your eyes, Harry, the weight of the world--I could swear on it now; it's sitting on your shoulders. It was like that all along. But the difference now is that you're forced to admit it. And that's what you hate now. Not only are you aware of it, but everyone expects you take on the responsibility... Even if it means losing yourself."

After a brief pause, Draco unconsciously licked his lip. "So, am I close?"

"You forgot one thing."

"And that is?"

"I hated now because it changed us. Not because I can no longer feel right about wanting you dead--and I don't, not anymore."

"Awwww, have I told you that you say the sweetest things?" Draco grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes, but a grin tugged at his lips. "As I was saying, I hated the fact that we had only just begun and already we could have ended. I felt like our relationship, whatever it is, has been tainted or something. So much is going on right now, Draco, and any second, _any_ second one of us could be at our end. I mean, look at what they did to you!"

"'Hated, felt?' Past tense."

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "After you said what was so obviously on my mind, I can honestly say that I no longer want to go back, because--fuck you were amazing just now. And I'm pretty sure back then, when we were kids, an amazing Draco Malfoy did not exist."

"You're such a prat, Potter."

Harry smirked. "Anyway, I guess that stuff doesn't matter. No one can stop death, or well, I guess that can be debated. That reminds--"

"Harry, you better get that tangent out of your mind right this instant or I swear I will use your own wand on you. And don't think that just because it's yours I don't know how to use it."

"How did you--"

"Harry!"

"Fine-- _fine_ , where did I leave off of?"

"You were saying, 'Stuff doesn't matter, no one can stop their death.'"

"Oh, right. It doesn't matter. We don't have to stop at anything we want to do. Living, that's what will allow us to win. The pain, the loss, the struggle... Everything! It will only make us want to put an end to Voldemort even more, so that we  _could_ move on."

 _"Well said, Harry, my boy."_

Harry turned around so quickly to face the voice that came up from behind that he had to grab the back of the chair to relieve himself of the vertigo that rushed through his body

ccc

"Potter? Harry! What are you doing? Where are you going?"

"I, I--didn't you hear it?"

"Hear what?" Draco asked as he limped forward.

Harry turned around and his gaze strayed downward, he almost forgot Draco's injured state. Draco was leaning awkwardly to one side, his arm, no longer set in his sling because of all the movement. "Damnit, why'd you follow me?" He looked past Draco. He saw the stairs and the hall atop it that he had just passed through to get to the main floor.

"You didn't respond when I was calling you." Draco moved himself to the wall to take some pressure off the leg that he was leaning on. "And you bolted out of the room. What else was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, maybe stay where you are. Fuck, Malfoy, you aren't supposed to be out of bed. Pomfrey will kill me." Harry ran his hand through his hair. Was he the only one who heard the voice? If that were the case he couldn't tell Draco what he heard, not until his injuries were healed at least. Harry walked up to Draco, he would have smiled, but he knew Draco wouldn't buy it.

"Oh, as if that were an option I could take."

"Why not?"

"Don't ask me stupid questions, Potter. You know exactly what I mean."

Harry leaned into Draco as he bit into his tongue, and then lightly ran his hand over his injured arm.

Draco followed Harry's movement with his eyes. Harry was gently moving his arm into the sling. His fingers ran over the cloth before he let his hand drop to his side. Draco caught it with his uninjured hand and pulled Harry in closer.

They were standing in the hall, where anyone could see them, but he didn't care. Harry's eyes met Draco's, something took over. Their lips collided.

This kiss was different from any other kiss they shared. This was no tentative kiss.

Lips, teeth, tongues met to taste, feel, clash, savor, devour the other's sweetness, heat and need. Need in solid form. Tasting real.

Both boys moved to get closer. Harry had Draco pinned to the wall, Draco's injuries almost forgotten. Draco's mind wasn't at all on the pain. He was thinking how he can get closer, more, and more. Little noises escaped from Draco's throat and somewhere that was even deeper inside.

Harry's hands were everywhere. One was in Draco's hair, the other, between their chests, pulling up or pushing off Draco's shirt. Or rather, it was an old shirt of his--Dudley's. Whatever the case, Harry needed for it to disappear.

"Draco..." He wasn't sure what he was asking right then, but he wanted it all.

Draco knew exactly what Harry was thinking, he wondered if he wanted it more, and almost thought to stop it all. How could Harry make him feel so good? What if it would never feel this good again? Or what if he can never have this feeling again with anyone else?

Draco didn't want anyone else. Was Harry feeling the same thing as he was? If not, then what happens afterwards? What if he has to face the reality that this can be taken away? In a moment of frantic wonder, Draco pushed Harry away.

"What--Oh fuck, did I hurt you?"

"No," Draco said, confused, then he remembered his broken leg and sprained arm.

Harry didn't know if that was in answer to his question, or an order to stop. "What is it? Did I--

"No, no--just don't stop." Draco made up his mind. "Never stop." But neither moved for a moment, for a moment they just looked at each other. Time stretched. Tension thickened. Draco tasted it as he licked his bottom lip, remembering Harry's lingering sweetness. His free hand started to move of its own accord, gathering the material of Harry's shirt, and lifted it up to reveal tanned skin.

Tanned, beautiful skin.

In a swift movement, he lifted the shirt the rest of the way. Harry's glasses got caught in it, but neither cared as it fell to the floor along with the shirt.

Draco was frozen, his face unreadable as he noted the differences between their bodies. He slowly moved forward again, touching Harry's chest, moving a hand to his arms and over his broad shoulders and down again, coming across a flat stomach, feeling muscles move under his touch, and then to Harry's navel. Draco momentarily thought of his sprained arm and how his other hand wasn't able to share in the glory. Nevertheless, he more than made up for it with his free hand. He traced a thin line of hair that led below the belt.

At this point, harry was breathing audibly in the hall. Draco thought that he was breathing so heavily it caused an echo, but then realized it was his own breathing that chased Harry's.

Harry stood still at Draco's touch. He wasn't sure what to do with his own hands. He never felt so open before. He was scared that it was Draco who was the one to make him feel this way. But why _not_ Draco? It only made sense.

Harry had done this before, but never like this. And he and Draco had only gone as far as kissing. What would everything else feel like?

"Draco," Harry whispered in the hall. This time he knew what he was asking. But before he was able to ask it, Draco came forward, their lips met again.

Harry felt the little sound that Draco made as it traveled to his groin. There was nothing else for Harry to do but pull Draco to him, his hands gripping Draco's waist, holding him in, needing him to stay there with him forever. The sounds that Draco was making could have been because of pain. But Harry didn't think it mattered when Draco didn't pull away, but pushed closer to him. So close and still not close enough.

His cupped Draco's cheek, angling him for better reach. His thumb ran lightly over soft skin and realized that it was slightly wet. He licked Draco's upper lip as he pulled back slightly, tasting salt. "Are you cr--"

"No," Draco breathed. "It's--My head--Concussed, remember? Emotions are all messed..."

Harry chuckled lightly. "And here I thought that I moved you to tears."

Draco brought his hand behind Harry's neck and pulled him in again. He took Harry's bottom lip and swiped his tongue across it before meeting Harry's tongue in his own mouth a second later. When he thought he forgot how to breathe, he pulled back. "I think, I think... that too," Draco gasped. "Merlin, Potter..."

Harry ran his hands, absentmindedly, along Draco's sides. He went in to kiss Draco's cheeks, tasting fresh tears as he made his way up and down, across his jaw and then even lower still as Draco gave him free access to kiss, suck and lick the length of his neck. Harry's hands drifted from Draco's sides to his lower back and then finally, under the thin shirt that covered his smooth skin. Draco was so unbelievably hot, Harry felt himself shiver.

His hands carried on with their journey, massaging, rubbing, exploring, feeling, wanting, needing. And then as if everything was going too perfectly, everything came to an end.

"Have you two lost all control?"

All at once, everything stopped.

Harry opened his mouth to speak.

"Rhetorical question, Potter." Snape's gaze landed on Draco. Although, Harry was the one who had his shirt off, it was Draco who looked so thoroughly debauched.

"Draco, you shouldn't be down here. Potter, a word with you."

Harry swallowed as he fought with his senses. Who was this man, saying words he couldn't comprehend? Nothing was making sense in his heated mind. And then:

"If familiar words in an even more familiar voice was in your ear recently, I suggest you come with me. There is no time to waste."

And just like that, Harry nodded in understanding. "Let me take him up first."

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear, I repeat, there is no time to waste. Draco, I'm sure if you managed to make your way down you can very well make it back to your room."

"And why do I have to leave at all? Why can't I know what is going on?" Draco stepped forward.

"Perhaps Draco, it is because you aren't to know yet."

"But--"

"Draco," Harry whispered. "I think I should talk to him alone."

"Why is that, Potter? What role am I playing here? I'm not going to just stand here and pretend as if I am not... not me."

"I sure as hell hope you don't, but trust me on this, Malfoy. I'll make it up to you." Harry smirked.

Thinking he should be offended, Draco curled his lip. "As if I--"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Oh do get on with it Draco, for the third time--"

"Fine! Fine, but I swear if you don't tell me everything as soon as you are done, there will be no chance for you to make it up to me, you hear?"

"Perfectly." Harry grinned.

ccc


	15. Chapter 15

**scene iii**   
_So Cold It Burns_

ccc

"So, you heard it too?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Severus bit out.

Harry sighed and collapsed into one of the dining room chairs.

Severus sat across him. "Get a hold of Granger and Weasley, there isn't time to search for Horcruxes or whatever else Dumbledore has you lot searching for."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I don't buy that, and how do you know what we were to do? That was between us and Dumbledore."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Harry, we don't have the time."

Harry locked eyes with Severus, and there was something that wasn't said. Harry thought that the unvoiced word was the most important. Severus said  _please_ in the most unlikely of ways, even if he didn't even voice it out loud.

"Okay, then, what is it we should do?"

Severus stood up and turned away briefly. "We don't have anyone on our side to tell us what is going on in the Dark Lord's circle. Did you get anything from Smith?"

Harry shook his head.

"We do have Dumbledore," Severus continued. "Not sure how, but he's here."

"Did you know?"

Severus shook his head. "That old coot, I never understood him. However, even with his presence, we don't know for certain the extent of it. I tried communicating back, it seemes the connection is one-sided."

Harry nodded.

"So, at this point, all we can do is hide and wait."

"Hide and wait?" Harry asked.

"Hide and wait." Severus confirmed.

" _Hide_  and  _wait_ ," Harry repeated.

"Yes, Potter," Severus said, with irritation. "I understand that those two words are completely foreign to you, but that is what we must do. They are bound to come after us, it's only a matter of time. And when they do, attacking is out of the question. Our defense just has to be stronger. While we are in hiding, you will train. You and anyone else that you can trust. Understand?"

"I understand completely. Where will we be going?"

"No details yet. We'll have a formal meeting tomorrow night, after dinner. I suggest you rest. You look horrible."

Harry left the dining room with a nod.

Once outside of the room, Harry briefly wondered what part of that information Draco wasn't to hear yet. He thought back on their conversation. There wasn't exactly any new information, not anything that was really urgent other than contacting Ron and Hermione. Harry shrugged it off; thinking about it wasn't going to be of any use. He chalked it off as Snape being his dramatic self. Harry grinned as it reminded him of Draco.

And, as if on cue, something crashed upstairs.

 _Draco_.

ccc

Draco was in the wrong room, at the wrong time, and with the wrong person. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Harry couldn't believe his luck.

"Draco, let me explain."

"Oh, now you feel like sharing?" Draco crossed his arms.

Harry's eyes darted from Draco to the other occupant in the room, Zacharias Smith.

"Zach, here, has been telling me the most riveting story, Potter."

Harry cringed at the use of his surname. "Draco."

Draco put his hand up. "Zach was telling me of your first time. Weren't you?"

Harry glanced at Zacharias, who licked his lips, and eyed Harry from his seat. He was still bound, but Draco had removed his gag so he could talk freely. "You can't trust what he says, Draco. You know that. He betrayed all of us."

"He did, but I know now his reasons. And I think given your past, you'd give him a second chance. After all, that is what you gave me. Right, Harry, a second chance?"

"You can't believe-—"

"No, Harry! You can't tell me what I can't do. I've had just about enough of that," Draco sneered.

Draco's tone was like a bucket of cold ice, ice so cold it burned. Even when they fought years ago, he never heard Draco like this before.

"Zach was about to tell me how he came to be nearly naked, bound and locked up in your room."

Harry's face crumpled.

Draco felt his cheeks burn as he turned and pinned his eyes on the other blond boy.

Zacharias was avidly watching Harry's every move. Draco chanced another quick glance at Harry, who, surprisingly, didn't leave his spot. His green eyes were trained to the floor. Draco had to act fast if he wanted for everything to work in his favor. He wasn't known as the Ice Prince of Slytherin for nothing.

"Tell me if I'm wrong, Potter, Zach was your first fuck, wasn't he? Didn't plan on letting me know that bit of information, did you? What was all that crap you told me earlier? Lies, weren't they?" Draco sneered. "No wonder you were hot and bothered downstairs, frustrated that Zach let on that he wasn't me? When you realized the truth, Harry, did you still _come_?" Draco's voice cracked on the last word, but Harry's locked gaze to the floor didn't falter. Though, Draco knew the wheels were turning, Harry looked frustrated as hell.

Zach didn't say a word yet, but it was obvious what he was thinking.

Draco took two long strides until he was standing just behind Zacharias. He leaned down to whisper in his ear, but kept it loud enough for Harry to hear. "Look at him, Zacharias. He's beautiful, isn't he?" At Zacharias' cautious nod, Draco continued. "And I thought I was the only one who found him attractive all these years, but I guess I was wrong. So very wrong. He's stunning, really. I mean, look at him." Draco smirked when Harry's eyes snapped up, meeting his gaze.

"Anyone would be mad as bloody fuck if they didn't agree. You know, I was blinded to think that nobody else saw the face behind those glasses. Or felt those muscles under all those rags he calls clothing. I guess you could say we have something in common, Zacharias. After all, I did stoop to physical violence just to get Potter riled up, just to feel him in some fucking way. I just didn't realize it at the time. But you? You knew all along. You were able to get into his pants, and all you had to do was drink some polyjuice." Draco patted Zacharias twice, and then left his hand on his shoulder.

"He's powerful too. So fucking powerful, he drips magic. But you should know, he's not packing." Draco pulled out Harry's wand to make sure he got his point across. Draco trained his gaze on Zacharias' quizzical expression, but he could feel Harry's heavy watchful eyes on him. Harry's thinking. Thinking. Thinking. Draco licked his lips, it was now or never. "You want him, don't you?"

Zacharias nodded.

Draco pointed the wand to Zacharias' ankles and sliced through the ties. "That's the problem with magic. It's pretty useless without anything to focus it with." Draco lowered his head again to the other blonde's ear. "You could do  _anything_ you want with Potter and there is not a thing he can do about it."

Zacharias looked doubtful as his eyes flickered to Harry.

"What if I were to stun him?" Draco added.

"Draco?" Harry spoke up now. His chin set and his eyes, defiant.

"Shut up!" Draco pointed the wand, his voice dripping with anger. A spell brushed past his lips and Harry fell to the floor. "He's had you, Harry!" The door slammed and locked just as Draco caught his breath. "It's over."

Draco then pointed the wand at Zacharias, who squirmed under his restraints. "Not to worry Zach, you can have him. But if you want me to release you, you'll have to let me watch, agreed?"

Zacharias slowly nodded once.

Draco then released the final binds that held the other blonde in place. "Go on."

"You've gone mental," Zacharias said, with fear in his eyes. He didn't move a muscle, but his eyes flickered to Harry.

"You don't know who I am, do you?"

"Everyone knows who you are, you're Draco Malfoy."

Draco raised an eyebrow. He pointed Harry's wand to Zacharias' arm. "You aren't marked."

"I never wanted to join You Know Who, I wanted--"

"You want Harry," Draco said, cutting the other boy off, not needing to hear what he had to say.

Zacharias nodded.

"I'm a Death Eater, Zacharias." Draco raised his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark that was burned into his skin to emphasize his point. Draco then turned to Harry, who was lying awkwardly on the floor. Draco flipped Harry over with his foot. "I thought maybe I could be someone else, but I guess that is something I can't do. I can't  _not_ be a Malfoy." Draco tilted his head up and laughed, his gaze landing on Zacharias, who, still, hadn't moved from his seat. "You probably realized that Harry has a kink for bad boys. Probably why you got the idea to do what you did."

"I wanted to get back at him."

"Sure you did, or perhaps, get back  _with_ him? I can understand that. He was yours and then, and then he lost interest and sought me. You thought you could get him back by doing away with me. But here's the thing, you didn't have to go through the trouble. You see, all you had to do was tell me that you fucked. That's all I ever wanted; the challenge. Now, that I know that is gone, I don't want him anymore. But you, you still want him, don't you?"

Zacharias stood now and started to walk towards him. Draco smirked. "I meant what I said earlier. You can have Harry; do anything you want with him. He's yours."

"I thought you loved him?"

Draco shook his head, and repeated, "I was only in it for the challenge, to be the first person Harry could fall for... and then be the first person to break him. Everyone knows that there is no pain like your first heart break. I wanted Harry to not be able to hate, or love, anyone else as much as he loved and hated me. However, seeing as you already had him, I no longer see the point."

"You let me go, why risk getting caught?"

Draco's eyes gleamed. "Who said anything about getting caught?"

"For all you knew, I could have ran. I could have went back to You Know Who." Zacharias kneeled to the floor, beside Harry. He looked utterly entranced. He touched Harry's cheek.

Draco cleared his throat. "I knew that you wanted Harry and that's all I needed to know."

Zacharias straddled Harry. He licked his lips. "How do I know you won't take me to him, you are a Death Eater."

"A Death Eater, who's out of the circle now that they think I'm a traitor." Draco raised his eyebrow.

"About that, after what happened, why let me have this?"

"Revenge," Draco said, simply. "Potter made me feel things; he made me want to deflect to his side. You can understand how painful that is. I'll own this moment, if not anything else. You know, after this, we'll both have to run. You can be free, and I'm going back to the Dark Lord."

Zacharias started to run his hands over Harry's arms, he then moved the fabric of Harry's shirt up, revealing a flat stomach. "He's so warm. I do want him, even if it is just for this last time. Even like this." Zacharias started to undo the button of Harry's jeans. "I'll do anything."

Draco pointed Harry's wand to Zacharias' throat, just as he was about to lower Harry's fly. "Remember who is still in control."

Zacharias nodded, but otherwise, he remained just as frozen as Harry was.

"As I said, I want back in with the Dark Lord and you're going to help me."

"What… what do you want?"

"I want to know what he was planning. What did I miss after he sent me to the dungeons?"

"He just had me go in place of you, that's all."

The wand dug deeper into Zacharias' throat.

"Shit, look, Draco. All I wanted was to get to…to Harry," Zacharias stuttered, he looked about ready to cry. "The Dark Lord never even said anything about taking Harry to him. He was planning on… on-- He was going to…"

"He was going to what?" Draco bit out.

"I overheard that You Know Who wanted a child, an heir. But he can't conceive, he wanted Harry's DNA, his… his."

"Cum?" Draco pieced it together in his head. "You were to bring back his semen. That was your order?"

Zacharias nodded. "But Harry, he… I don't know, he transferred us here. The next thing I knew I was tied up."

"Why would you risk it? How did you know about the dinner at Malfoy Manor? And why would you go as far as taking any action at all? Surely, you would know that if you returned to the Dark Lord and he wasn't pleased with your actions he would have killed you."

"The Dark Lord went to me beforehand, not him personally, but someone, another Death Eater. I… I didn't know he was a Death Eater at the time. He came to me while I was at Diagon Alley. And we were… we were talking about Harry. I guess he had seen me, I was watching Harry at the time. And then he told me that he knew a way I could get him." Zacharias was clearly crying now. "I didn't think about it at the time, what it meant."

"You did a horrible thing," Draco stated.

"I… I know. If I could take it back I would. I never meant to hurt Harry, or you," Zacharias confessed. And then he looked up into Draco's eyes, confused at what just happened. "Wait, what?"

But before there was any time for an answer, Zacharias was quickly rolled onto his back. His head hit the floor with an audible thud and his breath momentarily left him as Harry straddled him. Harry pinned his hands to the floor above his head. "Didn't know you had it in you," Harry said.

"Well, I  _am_ a Slytherin."

Harry looked up to see Draco smirking at him. "I wasn't talking to you, you prat. I was talking to Smith." Harry looked at Zacharias, who was still crying. "I didn't think you had it in you to tell the truth for once."

"Harry," Zacharias sobbed, "I just wanted for you to love me."

"Love can't be built on lies," Harry said.

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	16. Chapter 16

**scene iv**   
_Unity Meeting_

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"Wait a minute. I lost you, can you explain it again?"

"Honestly, Weasley, he explained it quite thoroughly. Which part are you not getting?" Pansy nudged Ron with her elbow.

"The part when Malfoy..." Ron trailed off, not able to voice his words. "The part when Malfoy, you know."

"Oh, do get on with it Weasley, surely you can say it. The part when I, Draco Malfoy, saved us all." Draco smirked.

"That's stretching it a bit, don't you think?" Ron said as he narrowed his eyes at the blonde, who was sitting across from him at the kitchen table.

"Not at all, Weasley. Admit it, you owe me your life." Draco grinned.

"Now, that's stretching it," Harry said as took his place beside Draco at the table, after he had gotten another cup of coffee. Their eyes met and held for only a second before Draco turned away.

Draco knew that the comment was meant to be taken in good fun like his own comment to Weasley, but he wasn't ready to fall back on such familiar ground with Harry, not yet. Not after finding out from Smith that Harry wasn't entirely truthful to him. He was hurt. He was both dreading and anticipating the moment when they could finally be alone together.

They barely had the time to speak two substantial sentences to each other since the whole scene with Smith happened. Right after Harry and Draco had sealed the door behind them, locking Smith in the room, they had contacted Snape and McGonagall to explain what had happened. It had taken not more than an hour, and the impromptu meeting concluded with Snape announcing that they'll contact the rest of the order, and a formal meeting would take place the next night as previously planned. Draco had insisted that Pansy and Blaise be accepted into the order, and Harry had surprised them all when he had backed him up so readily.

"Parkinson and Zabini may not have been allowed to be involved directly with the so-called Unity Meetings yet but somehow along the way, they had become my friends. I, like Draco, trust them implicitly."

It was at that moment when Draco had met Harry's eyes for the first time since they had left Smith in the room. Draco felt a familiar warmth wash over him as he saw in Harry's green eyes that he meant every word. Draco knew that Harry wasn't trying to gain his gratitude, but Draco nodded at him in acknowledgement anyway.

Snape had been the one to argue that that the idea of letting new members into the order at such a critical time was not advisable, but McGonagall expressed that maybe it was actually the best time for it.

Of course, without the full order not being there, nothing could be accepted formally. She advised Harry and Draco that Pansy and Blaise could visit, and perhaps if they decided themselves that joining the order was what they wanted to do, they could attend the next order meeting. It was at that time that Ron and Hermione arrived. Snape and McGonagall took their leave after advising them briefly of the latest plans of the next meeting, and that Draco and Harry would fill them in on what had happened. And it had been Harry's idea that they wait until Blaise and Pansy had arrived before they told them everything.

Forty minutes later, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Draco, Blaise and Pansy had found themselves settled at the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place, staring at each other. Harry had been the one to break the ice.

"At the start of sixth year I argued with Dumbledore that the Unity Meetings I had with Draco were not going to work. As it turned out, we became the unlikeliest of friends. And I don't rightly know when it happened but I also gained two other friends in the process." Harry had looked to Pansy and Blaise, who each nodded in turn. "Thanks to the bloody Gaunt ring, I was not able to tell Dumbledore how much those Unity Meetings were a success at Hogwarts before he passed away." Harry had trailed off for a moment. After meeting Draco's eyes, he continued. "Parkinson, Blaise, it was Draco's idea that we ask you to join us. I'd be grateful if you decide to--I can't promise a win--

"We'll win." Draco had interrupted.

Harry had inclined his head at Draco and a hint of a smile played at his lips before it vanished a second later. "Nevertheless, we can't be certain--People have died. People will die."

"Potter, you realize if you are asking us to join you, you're not doing a good job at selling your side," Pansy had said, with a smile at her lips.

"Yeah," Blaise spoke up, in agreement with Pansy. "We're not idiots we know what war means. I know that as Slytherins we have a certain reputation... It is disgusting that it goes against our nature to be like Gryffindors and risk our necks for other people, but we're smart enough to know who to trust our lives with. Unfortunately, we can't speak for all the Slytherins but Pansy and I have recognized that we'd rather place our trust in you than someone like You-Know-Who. You-Know-Who would expect us to kill and die for him without question, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would not even recognize us as being on the same level, let alone being considered as one of his friends. With that said, you don't even need to ask. Potter, as your friend, I'll do whatever I can to help. I choose to be on your side, whatever the result."

Pansy nodded. "I came to you in the past, seeking your protection. My motives, obviously, had been for personal gain at the time. Now, there's more to it. Like you said, Potter, along the way we became friends. And I like to think that I select my friends wisely. Granger, Weasley, Potter, I choose to be on the same side as my friends, on your side."

Harry had broke into a smile. "I... wow--I" He had been clearly at a loss for words.

Draco had rolled his eyes. "Just say thanks and be done with it. We still have to tell them what happened with Smith. Once everyone is on the same page, we can all do a group hug or whatever you Gryffindors do to celebrate new friends and every other event that gets you lot to celebrate. I suspect that given all the years I've seen you guys hug it out, that would actually be every event."

"Be honest, Draco, you just want a chance to properly touch your boyfriend." Blaise glanced at the clock. "Has twenty minutes been too long of a wait for you?" Blaise chuckled.

Draco's eyes had widened. He had felt his cheeks burn. He didn't dare to look at Harry because as it were, things were still unsettled between them. He needed time to be alone with Harry, not to touch, but to be able to tell Harry just how angry he was. The thought of Harry not telling him what had happened between him and Smith still hurt. Draco had felt a prickling at the side of his neck. Harry had been watching him. But Draco didn't dare meet his eyes.

"Right, well, I guess we can say this will be the first official Unity Meeting with all of us together. Let's start from the beginning," Harry had said.

And now, an hour later, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Draco, Blaise and Pansy were still sitting at the table. Harry was retelling Weasley the events of what happened with Smith.

Although, Draco was still upset with Harry, he realized that even with the knowledge that Harry didn't tell him about his past relationship or whatever he had with Smith, perhaps Harry just didn't have an opportunity to tell him. After all, everything had just started out between them. And they rarely had the chance to be alone. Draco decided that for now he could be indifferent towards the situation until he could speak with Harry, alone.

Draco sighed as he watched Harry take a gulp of his coffee. He didn't understand how Harry could drink the stuff, and black no less. Draco slid the milk and sugar towards Harry.

Harry glanced at the offering, but did not make a move to add anything to his mug. He looked up to see that Draco was watching him. He was touched by the simple gesture. He met Draco's gaze with a smile.

Draco's eyes widened at Harry's open expression. He felt his cheeks heat up and turned away, breaking their eye contact. How could Harry smile at him like that? And in front of everyone? Sure, as it happened their first kiss happened to be in front of nearly all of their year that attended the Hufflepuff leaving party, and that their next kiss occured at the platform, where any student could have seen them if they happened to look out the window of the express train. Draco realized that with all their public displays of affection, it was a wonder that Who-Must-Not-Be-Named didn't know about their relationship until that night Smith turned up. Draco frowned at the thought. He turned back to look at Harry who was gesticulating towards Ron.

"So I barged through the room and saw Draco with Smith. I thought the worst when I saw the look on Draco's face." Harry glanced at him then, and offered Draco a sympathetic glance. "And so...

Draco didn't realize he had been staring at Harry until Pansy nudged his shoulder. "The way you've been watching Potter... There's more to the story, isn't there? You guys gave us a G rated version of the story, didn't you?"

"We told you guys everything you need to know," Draco said and raised his eyebrow, challenging Pansy to say another word.

Pansy smiled. "Right, don't think you're off the hook. We'll save the gossip for later."

"Or not." Draco said and turned back to Harry who just finished telling them that Draco had been testing Smith to see what he'd do or say had Harry been spelled defenseless.

"Draco then casted  _Petrificus totalus_ , but he missed and that's when I knew what Draco was up to. So I dropped to the floor to make it look like I was under his spell. Draco taunted Smith, saying that all he wanted was to return to Voldemort, saying that I had made him feel things that he didn't want to feel--"

Draco coughed at the word 'feel.' Not understanding his instinct to interrupt Harry, he cleared his throat. And said the first thing that came to mind. "Must you say You-Know-Who's name?"

Harry caught his eye and tilted his head, understanding completely why Draco had interrupted him, knowing it had nothing to do with Voldemort's name. He cleared his own throat. "Uhm, sorry. Out of habit. I know it's..."

Draco could see that he was trying to search for what to say. "It's okay. I get it. Something having to do with needing to say his name with no fear. I mean, you're going to defeat him after all." Draco offered Harry a smile.

"Right, something like that." Harry nodded at Draco before he glanced at the others seated around the table. "So, Smith questioned Draco on his gain in the... errr... situation." Harry said in a rush, referring to when Zach had straddled his hips. "Draco had advised him that Vold--You-know-Who had thought of him as a traitor and the only way back in would be to regain his favor. Draco asked him what had happened after he was taken to the dungeons. And Smith, with a wand to his throat, had no choice but to tell him--us."

They had only gotten to this point before Weasley asked for a repeat of the part where Draco was able to get the info from Smith.

"If we can move on now." Draco raised his eyebrow at Ron.

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "It's still rather unbelievable that you were able to pull that off after Harry had been questioning Smith for days without success, and just minutes with you he squeals all."

"Well, now that you are aware of what I'm capable of, allow me to tell you what You-Know-Who had been planning. Apparently, according to Smith, he wanted an heir but he can't conceive. I'm guessing he meant that You-Know-Who is sterile. So, he wanted the next best thing, Harry's."

"He want's Harry's DNA?" Hermione's eyes widened.

"Semen, specifically. He wanted Smith to get into Harry's pants and come back with his sperm," Draco said, his voice slightly wavering.

"I wonder who You-Know-Who would have impregnated with Harry's sperm." Leave it to Hermione to keep the situation clinically professional.

"Or maybe a female wasn't to be involved at all. Smith said conceived for some reason. Hermione, remember my dream?"

Hermione nodded. "Oh, Harry, you think he wanted to carry the child himself. A male pregnancy--

"Wait a minute, you had a dream about males being pregnant, Potter?" Blaise said, smirking. "I heard about your rumored nightmares, and that  _is_  some scary shit. Males, pregnant, imagine--

"Blaise, that's beside the point," Pansy said. "And, why couldn't it happen? I mean, we do magic everyday. Wizards and witches are known to turn into animals, or polyjuice into looking like other people. We can form fire out of thin air, kill people with a swish of a wand, the possibilities are endless."

"Parkinson is right," Ron said. "Nothing is impossible."

"Thank goodness that Smith wasn't able to get Harry's sperm. Just think of the horror of Vold--You-Know-Who's spawn," Hermione said, shaking her head.

Pansy smiled. "Well, technically, it would also be Potter's spawn."

"Thank you for that image, Pans," Blaise said.

"I know, right? Cannot be unseen." Ron grimaced.

"Hey, I'm not sure if I should be offended."

Draco smiled at Harry. "Don't worry. They're shuddering over the hypothetical fact that that spawn in question would be part You-Know-Who's. I'm sure if you spawned a baby with anybody else they'd be delighted."

Pansy giggled. "I must say, if you and Potter were to spawn a child, that would be one beautiful baby."

"Ugh, stop putting images in my head." Ron buried his face in his hands.

Hermione tried to bite her lip to cover her giggle, but the sound escaped anyway. "I'm with Pansy on this one. I think that baby would look absolutely gorgeous."

Ron turned to look at Blaise. "Can you believe these women?"

"'Tis why I'm gay." Blaise said. "No offense, of course, ladies." Blaise grinned.

Hermione and Pansy dissolved in another fit of giggles. And Draco nudged Harry's shoulder. "Now that they are all caught up, mind if I have a word with you?"

Harry dipped his head and signaled for him to lead the way out of the room.

ccc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have finally gotten round to finishing this. So sorry it took me ages to get back to writing this. Just one more part to post. The ending, I know, will leave loads to be desired. And many plot holes will need filling, but that just means that more fillers can be written. ;) I hope though that the ending will come across the way I'm hoping it will.
> 
> With that said, I'm sure I lost a lot of readers along the way. I was lost as well. I hope you can understand that this fic was never meant to be so long. XD
> 
> I want to take the time to say thank you to those who have commented, gave me feedback and reminded me that I needed to finish. The last part for this fic will be up before the end of the week.


	17. Chapter 17

**scene v**  
 _Change_

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Draco woke up from a dreamless slumber. His thoughts were slow to come, and were coming in small, hazy increments. He kept his eyes shut, noting the soreness of his body. He was hesitant to try and move anything, fearing that he might not be able to move at all. Not being able to string together coherent thoughts together, he focused on his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. It wasn't until a a few moments later did he realize that he felt light puffs of air over his hair, mirroring his own breath. He worked up the effort to open his eyes and was thankful that the room was still dark, but by judging the faint glow peeking behind the curtains, morning was coming. He next realized that the curtains were not his own, nor was he alone in the still unfamiliar room. He gasped when he looked up, and raised himself to lean on his elbow to see that he was indeed sleeping on Harry. And it took all of two seconds for him to recall the day before.

Harry apparating him and Snape from the Malfoy dungeon. His injuries. His kiss with Harry. Finding Smith. Finding out that there was so much to Harry that he didn't know. The Unity Meeting. Blaise. Pansy. Weasley. Granger. They were all here. Draco remembered leading Harry back to the room he was staying in so that they could talk. He remembered not being able to talk once the door closed because as soon as he sat on on his bed, he felt completely drained. He remembered just looking at Harry lean against the closed door, looking hesitant, looking completely at a loss for words.

"This has got to be the longest day I have ever lived." Draco remembered saying.

Harry had nodded in agreement.

Draco remembered calling Harry over. He remembered patting the vacant space on the bed next to him.

Harry's eyes had widened. "Are you...? I thought--"

He remembered raising his hand to cease Harry from continuing his line of thought. He remembered looking at Harry, wanting to tell him how silly he was for being so angry at him. "Please, just come over," he said.

Harry had made his way. He sat with caution, next to him.

"On our way up here I was thinking of how exactly I wanted to tell you how angry I was at you for not telling me about Smith. That he was your first. I thought..." Draco trailed off, telling himself that it didn't matter. Harry was with him now, here. Draco fingered the side of the bed. "But now that we're here, I think that I shouldn't be angry at all. We hardly had a chance to talk about us. So I can't expect for you to have been able to tell me about anyone else," Draco said this slowly, choosing his words carefully, and wanting each word to mean exactly what he had wanted for it to mean.

Harry had bit his lip as he closed his eyes, seemingly in relief. "You're not angry."

Draco remembered seeing how different Harry looked in that moment. So vulnerable. So open. He had felt completely awed that they have come so far. He had shook his head, he remembered thinking that now was not the time to dwell on the past. He waited for Harry to meet his eyes again. "I'm not angry. Not anymore. Bit upset. But more so, I'm just glad that we're here."

Harry nodded. "I'm glad, too," he whispered.

Draco had returned Harry's small smile with his own. He didn't need to hear anything more. They would have the time to talk about whatever they wanted later, when they were ready. Right now, the important thing was that they were still Harry and Draco, and still _together_.

Draco remembered how his exhaustion took over. How the weight of the day just came crashing down on him all at once: his still healing injuries that made moving absolute torture, the whirlwind of emotions that tormented him more than the Death Eaters blows. Draco remembered the sweet call of sleep and how good it felt to lean back onto the bed. Draco remembered saying something along the lines of wanting to talk, but he just wanted to sleep right then. He half remembered the way he tried to adjust himself. And how he winced in pain. He remembered, in detail, how quickly Harry came to help him and how he moved him, gently, carefully, so that he was able to lay back in bed.

"Can I--Let me help," Harry had said, and smiled in that way that he does. And then he had moved around him and took off his shoes. Draco didn't remember when in the day he had put them back on. Probably when they were waiting for Pansy and Blaise to arrive.

Draco's cheeks burned as he remembered taking Harry's hand into his own. He remembered telling Harry exactly what he wanted to say: "You realize, I'm not letting you go."

Harry had chuckled. "I was going to stay whether you told me or not."

He remembered telling Harry to hurry and get in so that they could sleep. It was only when he had felt the bed dip and a warm body settle next to his, did he allow for sleep to take him.

Draco smiled at the memory of the night before. He found himself watching Harry as he slept. He was shirtless, and as he recalled the way he woke, he realized that he had used Harry's naked chest as a pillow. He knew that when he had fallen asleep that night, the only part of their bodies that touched were their clasped hands. Draco decided not to think about when he had moved in the night to sleep so carelessly atop the other boy. Instead, he wondered at what point did Harry decide to take off his clothes. Draco looked at the covers that were covering them both. He felt his cheeks heat up as he wondered if Harry decided to take his jeans off as well, like that time they had stayed in the Hufflepuff house.

Draco held his breath as his mind decided to focus on one task, and one task only. He carefully lifted the covers to reveal that Harry did decide to take off his jeans, leaving him in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. Draco also, belatedly realized that his heavily bandaged covered leg was draped over Harry's. Draco rolled his eyes at his ill-fortune of having to be bandaged up and wearing an overlarge shirt and sweatpants, when Harry was practically naked and they could have been touching skin to skin.

Draco moved back into the position he was resting in earlier, settling himself atop Harry's chest and he grinned at his view. From his position he could see the rise and fall of Harry's even breathing, and he could see the thin line of hair that led down from Harry's navel and disappeared into the line of his underwear. Draco didn't really look before, but now as he followed that sinful trail, he couldn't help but notice the slight bulge, inches away, tragically obscured by the covers. Draco sat up this time, and decided that there was no harm in looking, afterall, Harry did take off his clothes. It was only to be expected that Draco would see him at some point when they would wake. It just so happened that Draco woke up first.

Draco looked up at Harry's sleeping face again. And watched him carry on with his even breathing. Harry was simply stunning, his dark hair contrasting so perfectly against his smooth skin. Draco saw a line across his cheekbone that he never noticed before. He wondered how Harry got the scar. But the thought got pushed away when his gaze landed on his lips, which were slightly parted, obscenely. Draco caught himself licking his own lips at the sight. His gaze then traveled its way back down Harry's body. He moved carefully then, minding his injured arm as he moved the covers to get a better view.

The thought of getting caught, heightened his senses, making him more aware of the sound of Harry's breath, much slower than his own at the moment. He could hear the clock ticking away, and he felt unbelievably hot as his gaze traveled the length of Harry's lean body. His broad shoulders, his tanned skin that covering smooth hard muscles, his flat stomach, the line of his hip bone, the green of his boxer-briefs, and the way the material stretched over the most delightful swelling of what could only be Harry's cock. Draco smiled as he could see now the shape of it, even with just the dim morning light that leaked through the edges of the curtain. A tempting thought of peeking under Harry's underwear raced through his mind, before he wondered what Harry would look like if he were hard and how it would feel in his hands. Draco suddenly became aware of his own arousal. And just at that moment he saw Harry stir. Draco quickly moved the covers back over them and chanced a look at Harry's face.

"G'morning," Harry mumbled before his eyes slowly opened.

"Good morning," Draco replied, hoping his voice wouldn't betray him. "You.. You sleep okay?"

"Better than okay." Harry grinned. "And you?"

"Better than better, actually." Draco smirked.

Harry chuckled. "What time is it? Seems like it's still too early to be awake."

"That's because it _is_ still too early to be awake. It's just about five."

Harry groaned. "What are you doing awake then?"

"Nothing." Draco internally cringed at his too hasty reply. "Sorry, I didn't... I didn't wake you, did I?"

Harry shook his head. "No, just had this strange feeling like..." Harry broke out into a grin then. "Hey, were you watching me sleep?"

"What? No, why would I do that?." Draco's eyes widened and then turned away.

"Because you _like_ me," Harry sing-songed. "And you so were."

"Fine, okay. But only for a second," Draco admitted. He knew that Harry wouldn't have known that he looked below the covers so he left it at that.

"So, tell me what you saw? Was I snoring? Drooling?" Harry asked, his smile growing wider by the second.

"None of that, actually." Draco smiled as he fingered Harry's hand that rested atop his stomach, covering that wicked trail he was fixated upon just minutes earlier. "I _did_ see you, however. You have this scar on your cheek." Draco lifted his injured arm so that he could touch Harry's face. He brushed a finger across the scar. He could see why he didn't notice it before. The line was so thin. It was like it wasn't even there."

Harry's eyebrows knitted together in confusion for a moment. "Hmm, don't actually remember that one." And then, with a start: "Ah, yeah, I know what you're talking about now... I didn't think it was noticeable anymore."

"It isn't, not really."

"Got it when I was living at the Dursley's. I vaguely remember..." Harry's brows furrowed for a second before he continued. "I was probably five or six. I was running, chasing after Dudley, my cousin. I don't remember getting hit. I remember seeing the blood, wondering where it came from. I remember yelling... Not so much the words, but the noise of it. My uncle. His voice. It was all around me. Everywhere. Pitchy. Booming." Harry's eyes glazed over for a moment. He licked his lips before he continued. "So, it's still there, huh? Scars, they do a good job of reminding you of the past."

Draco didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He felt like he could tell Harry what he wanted to say by intertwining their fingers together and squeezing his hand, reassuringly. He wanted to tell Harry that he was there for him. He then leaned in and kissed Harry's cheek, atop the fading scar. When he moved away, Harry stopped him from pulling back by gently cupping his cheek.

"Are these tears?" Harry whispered. "Or lingering side-effect of a concussion?"

"Side-effect to being your boyfriend, more like," Draco said with a small smile. He didn't even know that he was crying. And although Harry said he hardly remembered what happened, hearing that Harry had been hurt made Draco feel as if he was the one in pain, a feeling that hurt so much more than his injured leg or his injured arm. The pain he was feeling was from the inside. And it consumed him. Draco never felt this way before, and he realized that as long as he was with Harry, he would feel it again and again. This was what it felt like to be apart of someone.

"Fuck, I hope that this doesn't mean you'll want to rid your system of me." Harry grinned as if he was trying to pull off a stupid joke, but Draco caught the hint of worry that laced his words.

"Oh no, I'll want the opposite actually. I'm going to need you in my system, quite often, in high doses and all over." Draco smiled.

Harry laughed, pulled Draco closer and captured his lips with his own, giving Draco just what he wanted.

Thirty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. "Draco?"

A muffled voice answered, quickly followed by a gasp.

Another knock, it was more forceful. "Draco?!"

"Blaise! I'm busy at the moment."

"No need to be so... Oh, Ohhhh... Are you with Potter?" Blaise asked, clearly amused. "Tell me, is he naked? Fuck, what's he doing right now?"

"Keeping Draco busy. Go the fuck away, Zabini," Harry said, his voice slightly muffled, but clear enough to register.

"Fine, but I'm going to want details, you hear, Draco? Details!" And then, in a louder voice, "Hey, Weasley, you can stop searching, Potter's with Draco."

A disgruntled sound leaked through the door, which was quickly followed with retreating footsteps and laughter.

An hour later, they were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Hey, are you guys coming down, or what?" The questioning voice was Pansy's.

"Didn't you hear us tell you that there has been a change of plans? Unity Meeting was supposed to start ten minutes ago." Hermione's voice filtered in.

Draco grinned as he looked up at Harry, canting his hips to meet Harry's thrust. "Damn, first meeting I'll be late to."

Harry kissed the corner of Draco's mouth and smiled. "Sometimes change is a good thing."

"Indeed, change can be a very good thing." Draco grinned and emphasized his point by wrapping a leg behind Harry and pulling him in closer, deeper, "However, punctuality is not something that needs changing."

"Ah, right. So, think we can make it down in five? That would make me just about on time." Harry grinned and shifted.

Draco moaned at the change in angle. "I think... Actually, given the situation, I think another ten minutes wouldn't hurt."

Harry smiled.

"Potter, Draco!" This time the knock rattled the door.

"Sev, just... just..." _let me have this moment and then..._ and then, _we'll be ready to face the world._ Draco kissed Harry's forehead. And just before his body pulled tight and he was carried over the edge, he had a moment of perfect clarity. He knew, he _felt_ , that whatever the future had in store for them, with their strength in unity, they would be victorious.

 **END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it was extremely difficult to end where I ended it. So many questions are left unanswered, I know. I wanted to try something different. I wanted to see if it would work. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe it does. In any case, given the ending, I'll have opportunities to expand on this story arc. What is in Draco and Harry's future? What does Voldemort have in store for them? What happened to Smith? And what was all the MPreg about? LOL Oh, the story lines... Mind, this fic IS complete. Filling in the blanks will just be more filler ;)


End file.
